Sins of the Father
by unnamedconspirator
Summary: While Olivia tries to find the truth about her father, a serial rapist haunts the detectives of the SVU squad. Things get personal when Olivia finds she is closer to her half sister Sarah Mackenzie in a way she never imagined. COMPLETE! CHAPTER 16 UP!
1. Chapter 1

Sins of the Father

A/N Apologies for the long delay. After reading and re-reading this story, I found that I could do better, so it has been revised. Thank you for your patience. I only want the best for my readers.

For SVU, this actually happens after the events of Undercover, and includes elements from the tenth and eighth seasons. And I brought Cabot into the mix. For JAG, this happens around the seventh season and includes elements from the fourth season.

Characters do not belong to me.

Please R&R

_Perfection was so sweet and so close. Perfection lay on a bed of roses, her hair splayed across her face in fragile wisps. He watched her chest rise and fall and felt a tingle of ecstasy. It was not love. No, he did not love anyone, nor did anyone love him. But that did not disturb him in the slightest. _

_He stared intently at her, longing, lusting. It began, and he lost himself in the intensity of the climax. But even then he was removed from his subject. He wanted to be there with her, but it was not possible. After a moment of relief from the darkness that compelled him, he succumbed again to his despair. _

_All he could do now was wait. Wait for perfection to come again. _

xxx

Tuesday 6pm

SVU Squadroom

Those eyes. Fearful, uncertain, tearstained eyes looked up at Olivia, crushing her with the weight of a violent and humiliating rape. The victim, Elizabeth Beyers, hunched over in her chair and wrapped her arms around her protectively. An experienced professional, she had everything going for her until two nights ago, when she was knocked unconscious and raped. She awoke in her car with a pounding headache and no clothes.

Olivia rubbed her forehead and sighed. They were done reliving the nightmare. She put her pencil down among shredded tissues and thumbed the 'stop' button on the tape recorder. "Thank you for coming forward, Elizabeth," she said, compassion emanating in her voice. She covered Elizabeth's cool hand with her warm one.

"Will you find him?" the question hung in the air like a guillotine.

Olivia felt Elizabeth's pain, saw her emotions flicker from outward control to a tense agitated state and back again. With every part of her, she tried to convey strength and reassurance so that Elizabeth would feel safe in trusting her. "We'll do everything we can," she said. She looked out the window into the squadroom to see Captain Cragen watching, he gestured for her to come over.

"I'll be right back," she said to Elizabeth. She stood up and walked to the door and then paused. "Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea would be nice, thank you." Elizabeth managed a grateful smile.

"Okay."

Walking out, Olivia nodded to her Captain, "What's up?"

Cragen gave Olivia a sympathetic glance. "We got a lead from the canvass, Elliot's picking him up now," he put his hands in his pockets and leaned against one of the battered desks of the squadroom.

"It's too bad she showered, if we had some samples, we could nail this bastard."

"CSU is going over her car, I'm sure they'll find something." Cragen said. "Do you think she can ID her attacker?"

Olivia wasn't sure. "I don't know." She looked back up at her Captain, "She came to partway through the rape when he was on top of her, but she was vague on the details, caucasian, light hair, blue or green eyes-"

A sharp _click-clack _of heels on the linoleum floor caught her attention and Olivia looked over her boss to see ADA Alex Cabot approach, her blonde hair bouncing over her shoulders as she strode toward them. "I heard we have a suspect in custody?" she asked.

Cragen crossed his arms and turned slightly to face the lithe prosecutor. "Elliot got a lead from a barista at the coffee shop that the victim was last seen at," he said. "We're going ask him a few questions."

"What evidence do we have?" Alex asked Olivia.

The detective pressed her lips into a frown and shook her head. "Not much, unless she can identify him."

"I'll get Fin and Munch to gather some people together for a line-up," Cragen said, taking charge. "Olivia, see if you can convince Elizabeth to ID him. In the meantime, I'll brief Elliot on the details and see if he can sweat our suspect into giving up the particulars of our case."

Alex crossed her arms over her Gucci pantsuit and regarded them both. "If she ID's him, he can be subpoenaed him for his DNA, we can get a warrant for a search of his home... anything."

Olivia understood, and once again felt the weight on her shoulders. The burden of proof. She wanted justice, she wanted Elizabeth to have some kind of closure in knowing that the perp was behind bars. The hard part would be convincing the victim that that's what she wanted too.

xxx

The stark interrogation room was a few degrees cooler than the squadroom, but Elliot Stabler didn't mind. It was designed that way, to make it uncomfortable for suspects, put them on edge. He paced the room, a little bit frustrated but trying not to show it. In contrast, his suspect John Aberdeen, watched him cooly from his seated position.

"So that's your alibi? You didn't do it because you were mugged?" Elliot questioned in disbelief. He leaned against the wall with the two way mirror, knowing that Alex and Captain Cragen were watching.

Aberdeen nodded, unfazed. "That's right."

"So why didn't you report it?"

"I didn't want the hassle."

Elliot was still suspicious. John Aberdeen was too slick, too prepared with his answers. Something wasn't right about this guy and it bothered him. "But you had enough money to go back to the coffee shop and buy a coffee."

"I had five dollars in my back pocket."

"Describe him."

Aberdeen shrugged his shoulders, "Black. Medium height and build, had a hoodie and ball cap. I didn't get a good look at his face, it was dark out."

"Uh huh." It was clear to Elliot that he would have to share some details of the case in order to get Aberdeen to say something incriminating. He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble that lightly dotted his face. "Let me tell you what I think happened, John," He said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. _Let's play, _he thought. "You're sitting in the coffee shop and you see Elizabeth come in and you like what you see," Elliott paused, looking for a reaction. There was none. "So you wait till she leaves and follow her to her car. When she opens the door, you grab her hair and smash her head in!"

Aberdeen had no response. He sat quietly in his chair, his hands on his lap. Elliot continued, raising the volume and accusatory tone in his voice. "You shove her in the car and drive it to a secluded area where you rape her while she's unconscious. But then she starts coming to, and you get scared, so you throw her in the car and drive her back to the coffee shop."

There was a glimmer of amusement in Aberdeen's eyes, but he remained as relaxed and cool as ever, as if he was watching a movie. "I told you detective, I didn't do it."

Elliot smirked and ignored the comment. He had figured out which button to press. "You know, I've been working special victims for a long time, and you know what? There are two things that rapists want, power and sex." He squinted, trying to see into the psyche of his suspect. It wasn't hard for him, he had done it many times before. But would Aberdeen play into it and admit what he had done or otherwise incriminate himself? That was the challenge. "It seems to me that you don't have any control over your life... sexually, I mean." Elliot leaned forward in his chair, "You scare them off, and so the only way to get in their pants is to knock 'em out and do them when they can't turn you down. Is that it?" the detective's gaze drilled into Aberdeen's stone grey eyes.

Aberdeen's jaw worked and the corner of his upper lip twitched ever so slightly. That silent admission of guilt was exactly what Elliot was looking for, and he was going to milk it for all that it was worth. "We got you nailed now, John, because your latest victim remembers what you look like and she's going to finger you as the guy who did it." Elliot walked around to the other end of the table, leaning in to Aberdeen's ear. "Tell me what happened, and things will be much easier for you."

An odd smile played across Aberdeen's lips, "You haven't arrested me detective. You have no proof. I'll be going now." He stood up, causing the metal chair to scrape against the hard floor.

The door swung open suddenly, revealing Captain Cragen's stern bearing. "Actually, Mr. Aberdeen, you'll be coming with us for a line-up."

xxx

Alex stared at the ghostly reflection of the victim through the window of the line-up room. Miss Beyers' dark hair was disheveled, her eyes covered raccoon-like in mascara, and her pale face bore thin lines. A large bruise covered the right side of her forehead. The ADA had seen many victims in her career, but this case hit home. Miss Beyers was just a year older than Alex, single, career driven, and passionate about her work. Alex even frequented the same coffee shop. i_She could have been me._/i

"CSU called, the car was wiped clean of fingerprints, but they did find blood." Cragen's voice interrupted her thoughts. "It's at the lab now."

Alex turned to Cragen. "If she ID's him, I can get a warrant for his house, see if we can match the blood that we found in her car to one matching his clothes."

"Let's hope so."

Six men walked up to the platform. They all had short blonde or light brown hair, and light eyes. Alex watched as Elizabeth's fingers trembled with fear. To calm her, Olivia touched her elbow.

"They all look alike," Elizabeth whispered.

"It's ok," Olivia said. "Concentrate on their faces, do you notice anything familiar? Scars? Moles? Freckles?"

Alex could feel the uncertainty, the fear, that paralyzed the victim. _Come on_, she thought, _you're all I have._ Line-ups were one of the most difficult ways of identifying the perpetrator, not because of inaccuracy: ninety percent of the time they had the right suspect; but because of intimidation. Even behind a two-way mirror, a suspect could instill enough fear into the victim that they would doubt their decision.

A crackling voice over the intercom ordered each man to step forward one at a time. As they did, Alex stared straight at the prime suspect John Aberdeen. She watched as the men stepped forward, holding their numbers like they were targets. They all looked like average guys that sit next to you at the deli reading the paper and drinking coffee.

"I'm sorry." Miss Beyers said after looking at them all. For a moment, she covered her mouth with her hand, resisting the urge to cry. "It was all a blur, I don't remember what he looked like," her voice trembled and she shook. "What if he's the wrong one?" Knuckles white, she chewed on her thumbnail as she looked back at them.

"Elizabeth," Alex pleaded, "One of those men pushed you into your own car, drove you to a park and raped you. If he goes free, you won't be his last victim." The pale visage that was Elizabeth looked at the men again. Time stretched on. Alex stopped herself from tapping her foot. This was the critical moment. If it was legally possible to identify the perpetrator any other way, she would do it, but this was the only way.

"Number three?" Miss Beyers rasped.

"Number three step forward," crackled the intercom.

John Aberdeen stepped forward. Nothing about him stood out, his face was completely devoid of emotion. Blank. But the ADA's trained eye could see the glimmer of hatred stirring in his eyes. She exchanged glances with Olivia, did she see it too? She did. A surge of anger filled Alex, she waited. One word, one word would send this no good scumbag to hell. Alex was sure of it.

"Is that the man who raped you?" Detective Benson asked.

"N-no, that's not him." Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around her. Her body screamed to say what her mouth could not. That he was the one. He was her worst nightmare.

"Are you sure?" Alex asked in disbelief. _It can't end this way._ Everything else in this case was circumstantial. To lay a charge, Miss Beyers needed to ID her attacker. With that statement, the DA's office could do nothing to stop this man from walking out the door.

"I don't know! I can't do this," she sniffed, "I'm sorry, I can't." Elizabeth straightened and looked up. As much as she tried to regain her composure, Alex could see that Miss Beyers was failing. She didn't have the courage to see this through to the end, to confront her attacker and put him behind bars. John Aberdeen had gotten to her, disintegrated her self confidence into nothing. It was a lost cause.

Olivia patted Elizabeth's shoulder, murmuring a few words of comfort. It was harder for the detective, Alex realized. From the very beginning, Olivia had heard the story, supported the victim. And now? They were walking away empty handed.

"It's okay honey. I'll drive you home." Olivia said softly to Elizabeth. But Alex did not leave the room right away. Her gaze followed Aberdeen out of the room. i_One day, I'll be staring you down in the courtroom, and you'll be the one cowering in fear._/i

xxx

"So we're back to square one," Stabler said. Frustrated, he tossed the file on his already overcrowded desk. Nothing angered him more then letting a perp go, especially considering that it might happen again. He rested his elbows on the arm rests of his chair and steepled his fingers. "There's gotta be something," he muttered

"We ran his credit, and we got nothin' on him, he's cleaner than a whistle." Detective Fin Tutuola crossed the room to the board. A photo of Elizabeth, her car, John Aberdeen's name and several other notes were laid out. The streetwise detective crossed his arms and scrutinized the information. "Guy doesn't even have parking tickets." Fin spat.

Behind him, Detective John Munch put his feet up on his desk. He counted off with his fingers, "One, no evidence on the victim- her clothes are missing and she showered after the attack. Two, no crime scene- it rained last night which eliminates any DNA and blood evidence we might find- _if_ -we even knew where in the park the rape took place." Munch adjusted his tinted glasses.

"What about the car?" Stabler asked.

"CSU's still processing everything. So far all we got in the car is the victim's blood," Fin reported. "Perp had enough time to clean up. This whole thing smells like skunk's ass," he said in disgust.

Elliot looked to Cragen for answers and saw that there were none. The Captain looked just as dismayed as he did, perhaps even more so. They had worked so hard and there was nothing to show for it. The perp was too slippery.

The Captain cleared his throat, "If the victim won't identify her attacker, we don't have a case gentlemen." Cragen announced, "We'll have to move on."

"What?"

Elliot looked up to see Olivia walking in. Marching in, really. This case really bothered her from the start. And the fact that there was no concrete evidence to pin their suspect with meant that there would be another victim, and they may not live.

"We can't just move on," she argued. "Did you see what he did to her? Elizabeth's a wreck, he_ destroyed_ her. We can't just _move_ on."

Elliot knew Olivia's empathy was crucial in their investigations at SVU, and the hardest part was not getting closure. "Liv, we have no evidence," he said despondently.

His tone must have struck a chord with her. She slumped in her chair and held her head in her hands. "So now what? We wait for his next victim?"

Fin, Munch, Stabler and Cragen all exchanged glances.

"We move on." Cragen said.

xxx

The dim lighting of the squadroom combined with the dull text of CSU's lab reports made Olivia's eyes ache. She couldn't get this case out of her head. It was strangely familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. As the lines blurred, she blinked wearily. Darkness pulled at her, and she could not resist. Her eyelids dropped like lead weights and she grudgingly accepted her fate.

"Hey, Liv."

Olivia jerked up, gasping. She looked up to see Fin in front of her, his eyes hinting at concern and amusement. "God, Fin! You scared the crap outta me," she combed her hair with her fingers as she sat up.

"You okay? Been here a long time." He looked at his watch, "It's ten o'clock."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she yawned. "Just going over the Beyers case." Olivia shuffled her papers and placed them in a file folder.

"With saliva?"

"Got me there," she confessed. Chuckling, she wiped the corner of her mouth.

"That was one helluva case, Liv. Don't know if there's anything left to salvage."

"There's always something" Olivia stared at the file folder. "There's gotta be," Her fingers drummed the desk for a moment and her mind flashed back over the day, going over all the evidence. "You know what gets me?"

"What?" Fin asked.

"Why'd he wipe his prints?"

"Didn't wanna get caught." Fin answered, like it was a no brainer.

"Yeah, but Aberdeen has no record, so even if we hadn't brought him in, there would be no match on the prints."

Fin nodded, comprehension dawning on his face. "Our perp has somethin' to hide." He grabbed his keys out of his locker.

"Yeah, like a record." Olivia shrugged her jacket on. "Maybe it's not Aberdeen." She didn't want to admit it, but she had to be objective.

"This guy's a predator, knows how to cover his tracks."

"I just don't want to see another victim," Olivia said with regret. If Aberdeen was the perp, he was out there now, walking the streets, picking his next target, making his move. It was enough to make her shiver. She wasn't afraid for herself, but it seemed inevitable that there would be another call, another early morning, another victim.

"Walk with ya," Fin offered.

"Sure." Olivia picked up her purse, and the two walked out of the dark squadroom together in silence. They had gotten through the hall and were heading down the stairs when someone approached them.

"Olivia!" She turned to see Melinda Warner coming towards her.

"Melinda?" she asked in surprise. The Medical Examiner was the last person she thought she'd see tonight.

"Hey, glad I caught you in time," Warner approached the detectives. "The results from the kinship analysis you ordered." She held up a white envelope.

"You got a match?" Olivia all but snatched it out of the ME's hands. She had submitted her own DNA to be ran through a database that would match it to any person whose DNA was in the system. The kinship analysis would check to see if they shared common alleles, which would make them relatives. Her desire to find her father, or anyone related to him had been a driving force in her life. Of course, Warner didn't know that it was her DNA.

Melinda crossed her arms, looking at Fin and then Benson, "I found an uncle, he's in Rikers."

Wide eyed, Olivia stared at Warner, "Father's side or mother's?" As far as she knew, her mother didn't have any living relatives that had a criminal record.

"Father's."

Her heart did a triple backflip when she heard that word. In shock, she stared at the envelope. "Melinda... thanks," Olivia said, eyes still on the envelope.

"Anytime," said Warner, unaware of Olivia's anxiousness as she walked away.

"Whassat about?" Fin asked as they trotted down the stairs.

Olivia hesitated for a split second as she thought of what to say to her colleague and friend. "Nothing, just a cold case," she lied. She stepped ahead of him and opened the door, letting him through first.

"Hm," Fin grunted.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

xxx

After leaving Fin at the metro, she continued walking through the city streets, absorbed in her own thoughts, oblivious to her surroundings. Blinking, Olivia found herself at a late night diner a block and a half from her apartment. She sat down at a window seat and ordered tea. It had started to drizzle outside and streaks of rain reflected the glow of city lights in the window. Her hand reached into the inside pocket for the envelope, the eggshell texture of it giving her the goosebumps. What was it that Melinda said? A one in ten thousand chance that there was even a hit? Impatient, Olivia tore open the envelope and pulled the two folded white papers out.

Her hands trembled as she read the information contained on the pages. One page was a summary analysis of the DNA alleles that had been tested and matched, and the other was a brief of the man that she would identify as her uncle:

_Bill Mackenzie_

_Birth date: 02/27/1945_

_Height: 6' 0"_

_Weight: 163 lbs._

_Charges and Convictions:_

_Assault and Battery in the 2nd degree_

_Assaulting an officer_

_Public intoxication_

_Date of conviction: 09/17/2002_

_Plead: Guilty_

_Sentencing:15 years maximum security_

_Parole: 10 Years_

_Current Prison Facility: Rikers Penitentiary._

A soaring feeling caught in her chest. Was it hope? Olivia didn't know. Questions littered her thoughts. Was her father alive? Did he have any children? Did he rape her mother? She folded the papers up and slid them back in the envelope. Her tea was cold and untouched. Tossing a couple folded dollar bills on the worn table, she walked out into the night. She held the key to her very existence and she was afraid what doors it would open.


	2. Chapter 2

Sins of the Father

Part 2

Rikers Island Prison

Wednesday

1:00pm

For the first time in her career, Olivia felt intimidated by the stone walls of Rikers. She had left her gun and her badge in her car. She wasn't going in as a cop. _It's personal this time,_ she thought. She had so many questions, so many fears. Bill Mackenzie was the only link to the man who raped her mother. To come to terms with a lifetime of fear and doubts about her father, she had to find out the truth.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she entered a visitation booth. It was a small room separated by a glass panel. On each side of the panel was a ledge and a phone receiver. It was unreal. In all the times she had been to Rikers for work, she had never been in one of these booths. Olivia sat down slowly, taking it all in. A clanging door interrupted her thoughts and she looked up.

The inmates filed in, each taking their place in the rooms beside her. A tall, sallow man walked in and faced her. His orange jumpsuit hung around a waif-like body. Long lines creased his forehead and his skin hung loose around his face. His grey thinning hair was combed back, revealing a high forehead. But while his body was dead, his eyes were alive. Dark, piercing brown eyes peeked at the complex character that was Bill Mackenzie. He sat down and picked up the reciever with a pale hand.

Never in her life had she felt so apprehensive. She picked up her receiver and spoke into it. "Hi, I'm Olivia Benson, we talked on the phone this morning?" The words rushed out. She made herself relax, consciously forcing her fingers to stop drumming on the ledge.

"It's been a long time since I had a visitor, Miss Benson." Bill's voice had a slight tinge of a southern accent. "You wanted to talk about my brother Joe?"

"Yes."

"You didn't say why."

Propping her right elbow on the ledge, she thought carefully about what she would say to this man. "I have reason to believe he's my father." Olivia stated. She watched Bill closely, gauging his reaction. It would help her steer the direction of the conversation where she wanted it to go.

"I see," Bill said, his eyebrows rising slightly. He didn't seem too surprised. "Well, I don't know what to tell you miss, Joe and I never really got along."

"Why?" Olivia asked.

"I was a momma's boy, Joe was his father's son. He always was. There was a connection between them that I could never share." Bill licked his lips. He had the countenance of a man who had nothing to lose. He continued, "I resented him for it.

"When I was ten, I walked into the garage to get my bicycle and found my father's body. Joe was there, covered in blood. He told me to leave." Bill broke eye contact and steadied his hands. "We didn't talk for years after that."

Olivia stared in shock. "How did your father die?"

"Doc said it was suicide, slashed his wrists. But I know..." Bill nodded his head with certainty, "I know Joe did it." He stopped, and his fingers lifted a silver crucifix from around his neck and rubbed it. "Funny thing is, I always got the feeling that by killing dad, Joe was trying to protect me."

"Protect you? From what?" Olivia asked, riveted.

Bill shook his head, ignoring the question. It seemed that he was hiding something. He licked his lips. "When Joe was eighteen, he left for the Marines, did a few tours in Nam and when he came back..." He sighed, "It changed him, the war. He tried to stay in New York but people didn't quite understand him here. So he went south to Arizona, got married, had a kid."

"Joe had a child?" Olivia asked. Just thinking about that man raising a family made her shudder. Were Joe's children abused? What about his wife?

"Yeah, that'd be Sarah, though I never seen her since she was a tyke."

Sarah. _I actually have a sister. _She didn't know what to think. Did he hurt her? Where was she now? Olivia pushed the thoughts down and asked the next question. "Where is he?"

Bill shook his head, "Joe died a few years ago, at some hospice in Fresno." Forlorn, he looked at his fingernails. "Never did like the cold, guess that's why he moved down south."

"What about his daughter?" she asked.

"I think she's in D.C. She's a lawyer, saw her on T.V once." A tiny ounce of pride was heard in his voice. "At least somebody did somethin' good with the Mackenzie name."

"Thank you Mr. Mackenzie," Olivia said at last.

She started to hang up the phone but Bill's brown eyes met her own. "You know, to most people, Joe was a no good son of a bitch, he drank too much, and he hurt the people he loved the most." He paused. "But about ten years ago, he called me," swallowing hard he continued, "I hadn't spoken to him in nearly thirty years."

Olivia leaned forward, "What did he say?"

"He said he was sorry for leaving me. Funny part was, I believed him. I don't even know how he got my number." He put his face in his hand for a moment. "I know Joe probably messed up you and your mothers life, but I think if he had the chance, he'd try to make things right." Bill's gaze met Olivia's stare, "I hope you remember that."

Olivia clenched her jaw in consideration of Bill's last words to her. _He wants to make amends, for rape? Yeah, Right._ She choked back the bile as she said, "I will."

xxx

SVU Squadroom

155pm

Detective Stabler hung up his desk phone for the third time. He had been trying to reach his partner for the last hour, but her cell was turned off. It was weird for him, he was used to grabbing a couple sandwiches or a burger and discussing a case over lunch. Today Olivia had insisted on going out for lunch-without him. Not that he cared who she met, but she was an hour late coming back. _Probably stuck in traffic,_ he thought.

"Sorry I'm late El, I got stuck in traffic," Olivia barged into the squad room.

Elliot looked up, half a smile on his face. "Sure," he exaggerated, "and you forgot to charge your cellphone."

"I charged it last night," she retorted, pulling out her cell. "Oh," she powered it on, "Guess I forgot to turn it on after-"

"After what?" Elliot leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk, mocking her.

Her eyes flashed, "After nothing El, mind your own business." The tone in her voice was ice cold.

He squinted at her. She was on edge about something, and it wasn't work related. "Ooh," he held up his hands in mock surrender. "New boyfriend?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. She glided into her chair and pulled out some papers from her desk. "Cragen in?" she asked.

"Yeah," Elliot replied. He watched as his partner gathered up some files and walked over to Captain Cragen's office.

xxx

A light knock on Cragen's door got his attention. "Come in." Cragen stood up out of habit.

Olivia walked in, carrying a folder.

"Olivia, What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Uh, Captain, I got the DD-5 paperwork done for Barnes case," she said, handing him the file.

He took it and read it over, "Great, Cabot's already working on a deal for him. No jail time. Looks like he'll be given psychiatric treatment." Twenty-year old Michael Barnes had confessed to having sex with a thirteen year-old girl, but it was discovered that he had fetal alcohol syndrome, which affected his ability to foresee the consequences of his actions. Furthermore, Michael was needed as a key witness in the case against his stepfather who had molested both him and his younger brother.

"That's good, I didn't want to see him in prison for a stat rape, considering the circumstances."

"Neither did I," Cragen put the folder down and walked behind his desk. Olivia just stood there, like she wanted to say something.

"Anything else, Olivia?" Cragen asked, his haggard expression neutral.

"Something's come up Captain," She brushed a strand of her hair back. "It's kind of personal. I need to take some time off."

Cragen eyed his best detective. Olivia seemed pensive, a little distracted even. Her hands were clasped in front of her and he noticed that shoulders were tense. It was extremely rare for her to ask for time off. Usually, he had to send her for time off. Even when her mother died, she hadn't taken any time to grieve. "How long?"

"I'm not sure, a couple days?" she said unsteadily.

He considered it. At the moment, it was pretty quiet, no major cases had been reported except for the Beyers case, which they had no leads on except for Aberdeen, who was lying low. If there was anytime to take leave, it was now.

"All right, Olivia, take the rest of the week off. Take care of whatever it is you need to take care of." Cragen knew that it was for the best, a distracted detective made for a bad case. He knew it himself.

Her shoulders relaxed and a small smile of gratitude marked her features. "Thanks Don," Relieved, she walked out of the office.

Elliot looked up when he heard Olivia's footsteps come near their desk. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed a few items. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Home," She replied, swinging her jacket around her shoulders. "I'm taking some personal time."

"I'll drive you." Stabler jumped up out of his seat and grabbed his jacket. Olivia never took personal time. Something was was up. He wanted to talk to her, make sure everything was all right.

"No, that's all right, I'll walk."

Elliot licked his lips, thinking quickly. "Not a problem, I was gonna grab coffee for everybody anyway, it's only a few minutes away," he insisted.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "Fine," she said, and tossed him the keys. "Let's go."

The drive was quiet. The wipers sloshed methodically from side to side while the heat blasted his face. At every red light, he looked sideways at his partner, but she was too engrossed in her own thoughts. Finally, he said, "If you ever need to-"

"I know," came the terse reply.

"Care to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked. He was concerned about her. She'd been acting distracted all day. Something was bothering her and he wanted to help. "Is it the Beyers case?" It was a bad guess, but he thought if he could just get her talking, she might spill.

"I don't want to talk about it, Elliot." Olivia stared out the rain splattered window.

"Well, when you do..." he stopped the car in front of Olivia's apartment. Pulling the park brake, he turned to face her. "We've known each other for years Olivia, you can talk to me."

"I know. Don't worry about me, El, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind." Undoing her seatbelt, she offered him a small smile.

He nodded, "OK, see you."

The door slammed shut and Olivia jogged to her apartment building,dodging the rain. Elliot watched her go, then turned his view back to the dash. As he put the car in drive, he noticed a slip of paper under the windshield. He picked it up. It was a parking stub for Rikers Island Prison marked for the same time Olivia was apparently stuck in traffic.

Back at the precinct, Elliot took a slow sip of his coffee. He stared at the parking stub. _What's going on Olivia?_ He thought. _What were you doing at Rikers? _Why would she lie about being stuck in traffic? Didn't she trust him? But what really got him was the fact that she left it there in the first place. Did she leave it there on purpose? Or was she so distracted that she forgot that it was sitting there? He leaned for the latter, noting that she had been distracted and moody all day.

He shook his head. Now was not the time for him to get into it, he'd call her later. He stuck the stub in his desk drawer and returned his gaze to the stack of papers that covered his desk.

"Yo, how's the cold case comin'?" Fin's voice interrupted his reverie.

Stabler looked up to see Detective Tutuola standing by his desk. "Cold case?" he blinked.

"Yeah, the one you're workin' with Liv," Fin explained. "I heard you got information yesterday about an uncle from Rikers."

"Fin," Elliot leaned forward confused, "We're not working any cold cases."

Fin broke eye contact, staring into space for a second. "Sorry," he said slowly. "My mistake. Must be one of Munch's." He nodded at Elliot and then sauntered to his desk.

Elliot watched him go. Uncle from Rikers? Now he was really confused. As far as he knew, no one was working any cold cases, but Olivia had told Fin that she was on one. _What are you hiding Olivia? _

He pondered the evidence for a moment. Yesterday, Olivia lied to Fin about a cold case involving an uncle in Rikers. During lunch, she makes a visit to Rikers and lies about it. When she gets back she requests personal leave. Something's going on, who was she meeting at a maximum security prison? He needed to talk to Fin.

Elliot grabbed his coat from his locker and threw it on. It had been a long day and he wanted to go home and call it a night. There was one thing he had to take care of. Things had been tense lately between him and Fin. While they both did their jobs, the two detectives refused to work with each other unless absolutely necessary. But to help Olivia, he had to know what Fin knew. He reached into his pocket and felt the parking slip. A noise got his attention, Fin had entered the locker room. Elliot took a deep breath. "Hey Fin," he called casually, "What were you saying about that cold case?" Elliot leaned his shoulder against the lockers.

"What cold case?" Distrust played across his features.

"You know the one I'm talking about." Elliot didn't want to mess around.

Fin nodded, "What about it?" His locker squeaked open.

Elliot leaned in close to Fin, "Liv's not on a cold case, nobody is," he whispered. "What did she tell you?" He was concerned for his partner and he hoped Fin could see that.

"Nothin'. It ain't none of my business," Fin grabbed some workout gear from his locker and shoved them into his duffle bag. "Whatever's goin' on between you two doesn't concern me." He faced Elliot. "If Olivia's onto somethin, she'll take care of it."

"Look, Liv's our friend, and we both know that she hasn't been herself lately," Elliot decided to show his cards, he dug into his pocket and handed Fin the stub. If there was one thing they had in common, it was that they both cared for Olivia as a friend and colleague. It was time to get to the bottom of this. "She said she was stuck in traffic."

Fin looked at it and sighed. "Warner caught us before we left last night. She gave Olivia an envelope, said she got a DNA match from a kinship analysis, somethin' about an uncle."

"And?" Elliot had his hands on his hips.

"Warner said the guy was doin' time in Rikers." Fin handed the parking stub back.

Elliot nodded, connecting the dots. This 'uncle' was probably who she went to see for lunch. "Thanks."

"No prob." Fin called after him.

Elliot returned to his desk and looked up the number for Rikers visitor's desk. If Olivia wasn't officially on a case, she'd go visit as a civilian, not a cop. He punched the number in and waited. "Hi, this is Detective Stabler, Manhattan SVU. Could you tell me who Olivia Benson visited today? Uh, about one o'clock. Yeah sure, 102239." He waited, tapping his fingers it seemed to take forever. "Bill Mackenzie? Great, thanks." _All right Liv, who the hell is Bill Mackenzie?_

xxx

Olivia's apartment

230pm

Olivia closed the door to her apartment and leaned against it. _I have a sister._ The thoughts tumbled out. _I'm not alone anymore._ The possibility of having a relative out there somewhere elated her. For a few minutes, she reveled in it.But she was also afraid. Her quest to find out about her father was going to be painful. She would be unearthing things that would otherwise remain buried in the past, and doing so would be costly. Was Sarah molested as a child? Was her mother also a victim? Olivia couldn't think about it. Switching gears, she grabbed her laptop and inserted a memory stick. In an instant, she pulled up the information she obtained before she had talked to Cragen. While it printed off, she packed her bags. She was going to D.C.

Washington D.C

630 pm

The rental car slowed to a stop outside of a small apartment complex. Olivia parked it across the street and waited, gathering her wits. She was at the correct address. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and exited the car. She shoved a folded copy of Sarah Mackenzie's drivers license into her back pocket, having already memorized the details. Sarah Mackenzie had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, she was about 5'10" and weighed 125lbs.

Her hands trembled as she entered the aparment building. She opted for the stairs and dashed up them two at a time. It was the longest flight of stairs she had ever climbed. She slowed when she got to the top, catching her breath. Her steps scuffed along the carpet as she scanned the doors. 208, 210, 212. She stopped in front of it. Olivia felt like she was floating over herself, watching. What she would say? _Hi, I'm Olivia, your father raped my mother and produced me, wanna go for drinks and talk girl talk?_ But she had to know... was her father a rapist? Knocking three quick raps, she waited. Nothing. She raised her hand to knock again when the door swung open and a towering man in a Navy uniform stood before her.

"Can I help you?" he asked.


	3. Chapter 3

Sins of the Father

Part 3

There is an important time detail that you need to remember in this and the next chapter. Where it says Friday, 330 Am in the Indian Ocean, that means that at the same time, it is 330pm Thursday in New York. This is significant, so don't get it confused.

Please R&R

Washington D.C.

Wednesday

630pm

Olivia stared at the towering Commander in front of her. He had caught her off guard, and for a second she was speechless. Regaining her composure she said, "Hi, I'm Olivia Benson, is Sarah Mackenzie here?"

"Olivia Benson," the man said slowly, as if trying to decide what to tell her. "Commander Rabb, U.S Navy JAG corp." He reached out to shake her hand. "Colonel Mackenzie's on temporary additional duty aboard the U.S.S Guadacanal, she won't be back for a few days."

"Oh." Her heart sunk in disappointment. Her desperation had led her nearly 300 miles away from home only to come up empty handed. Oddly, however, Olivia felt a gram of relief. It was like going to the dentist office for a painful procedure, only to find that the appointment had been cancelled. "When will she be back?"

Commander Rabb shook his head, "Hard to say, she just left this morning." He leaned against the doorframe, "What's this about?"

Olivia looked down, debating what to tell him. She couldn't afford to wait in D.C indefinately. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pen and a business card. Scribbling on the card she said, "Look, could you give this to her when she gets back? It's about her father, Joseph Mackenzie." She handed the card to him.

"Joseph Mackenzie is dead, ma'am." Rabb regarded Benson suspicously.

Olivia saw the questions in his eyes and figured that the Commander was being protective. "I know," she replied. "I'm detective Benson from the NYPD," she showed her badge and ID "I came across his name on a cold case investigation. I just have a few questions to ask so I can close the case." It was true, her mother's rape was a cold case and she had come across Joseph Mackenzie's name during her investigation, she just had illegal evidence.

"I see," Commander Rabb said slowly. He examined the card and gave her a sidelong look. "Well, I'll make sure she gets this, detective." He put the card with the pile of mail he carried.

"Thank you, Commander." Olivia stepped back, turned and walked down the hallway, her thoughts on a thousand why's and what if's.

xxx

Washington DC

Benzingers Bar and Grill

Wednesday 815pm

"Congratulations on your win Bud," Harm clinked his bottle against Bud's glass.

"Thank you sir," Bud's face was all smiles. He sipped his drink, "But I couldn't have done it without your advice."

"You would have figured it out sooner or later," Harm drawled. He was proud of his colleague. Bud had won a difficult dereliction of duty case against his rival, the ambitious Lieutenant Singer which was no easy feat. He patted his friend on the back in congratulations.

"I heard you and Commander Turner got a new case," Bud's wife Harriet changed the subject.

"Yeah, it's gonna be a hard case to make, a lot of he said, she said, he did, she did." Harm remarked. He took another swig of his beer, savoring the taste on his lips. The Admiral had called them in late in the day to give them their assignments. He'd be leaving tomorrow to begin an investigation.

"What happened sir?" Bud asked.

"I don't know the details, but apparently a young Lieutenant was accused of raping an Ensign under his command." Harm kept his voice low. Just then the waitress came with their food. Harm leaned back and helped hand the dishes to his friends. His mouth watered, he was hungry. "Commander Turner and I will be investigating and then we're going to convene an article thirty-two hearing." He took a bite of his grilled salmon and was about to continue his story when something caught his eye. Detective Benson entered and took a seat at the bar. "Excuse me for a minute."

Harm slowly walked up to the detective, carrying his beer. He had to admit he was curious about her. He approached her from the side. "Bartender, I'll have another," he raised his bottle. The bartender nodded and popped open a bottle of Budweiser. Harm sidled up beside her, a seat in between them. She was staring at her beer as if expecting it to drink itself. "Come here often, Detective?"

Her head snapped up and she looked at him, startled. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw who it was. "Are you always this way with the women Commander?"

"Only when they're alone, at a bar, with a beer." He smiled. The detective was tense, and he wanted to put her at ease. If he could get a little more information out of her, he could better prepare Mac.

"Mm," she said, taking a sip. "Careful what you say, I've put away molestors and rapists with less than that comment."

"Ouch!" Harm feigned looking hurt, but he was a good sport. "So you came all the way to D.C just to ask a few questions?" That was what had irked him when he first met her. She seemed driven, but not ambitious. No, she wasn't trying to get to the top, she was trying to find something. _Or someone,_ thought Harm.

"Call me thorough," she said, pressing her lips together. "Besides, I usually get more information from someone when I meet them in person."

It sounded plausible. "I see," Harm said warily. They didn't speak for a moment. "Your card says SVU, that's special victims isn't it?"

"Yeah." The detective eyed him suspiciously as she took another sip.

"How do you do it? I mean the emotional and physical trauma of the victims must make it hard sometimes, to find the truth." Harm asked quietly. He knew it was a bold question, but heck, flying F-14 tomcats was bold too.

Olivia put her glass down and stared into it. When she looked back at him, her eyes had the faraway gaze of someone reliving an experience. It was a painful look. "I just keep thinking... what if it happened to me? What would I want?" She swallowed. "It's never easy, Commander, but when I read the perp his rights and know that we've got him..." The corner of her mouth turned upward slightly, "then I know that at least one sicko is off the street, and one more victim won't have to face that horror again."

Harm nodded, contemplating her words, the underlying passion and emotion that was in them, and the raw dedication of a woman of a woman that lived for her job. He didn't know how to respond to that, so he simply took a swig of his beer. For her part, Olivia did the same, staring straight ahead.

Finally, Olivia broke the ice, "So, tell me about Colonel Mackenzie. What's she like?"

Harm was caught off guard, "Mac?" he asked.

"That her nickname?" Olivia's voice took on a more converational tone. Softer.

"Yeah." Harm looked upwards, thinking. What to tell her... Mac was his best friend out of court and his worst enemy in court. "Let me put it this way, to be a female in the Marines is one thing, to be a female Marine lawyer, is another." Harm gave a little smile. "If Mac's on your side, she'll get you a home run, if not, she'll strike you out." He meant that both personally and professionally.

"So which side are you on?" Olivia seemed to get the drift. Don't mess with Mac.

"Me?" Harm huffed. "Both."

"Really." Olivia smiled. "What were you doing at her apartment?"

Harm shrugged, "I was just..." He saw the detective's accusatory glance and stammered, "Mac and I have an agreement," he hesitated for effect, "to check each others mail when we're gone."

"Mmm hmm," Olivia didn't sound convinced. "Admit it, you like her."

"We've been through a lot together, but, somehow, the timing is all off." He thought about what had happened earlier today, arriving at work to find that Mac had shipped off to the Indian Ocean before he could talk to her. He hoped things would be okay between them.

"What can you tell me about her relationship with her father?"

Harm took a thoughtful sip of his beer. "He was an alcoholic, abused her mother." The detective was thorough."Mac left him when she was seventeen, took off with her boyfriend. She had nothing to do with him until the day he died."

"I see," she sounded disappointed.

"She said he never hurt her," Harm continued, "And that in his own, pathetic, way he tried to care for her. Even though she didn't understand it then. She left him, but he never really left her."

Olivia nodded, contemplative. She looked at her watch, "I gotta catch my plane." She grabbed her purse and laid out enough cash to pay for both their drinks, "Commander, thank you."

Harm suddenly understood. Olivia had appealed to his cowboy sensibilities and wound up with all the information she needed. She had followed him the whole time. And he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

She seemed to notice the dawning comprehension on his face. "Something wrong?" she asked, a smile in her eyes.

"You're good. Real good."

"New York's finest," she said as she walked away.

"Go easy on Mac, detective, her father's kind of a sore spot," Harm called after her.

xxx

U.S.S Guadalcanal

Indian Ocean

330am Friday morning.

_Dark shadows closed in on her. Cold, wet leaves scraped against her skin. The earthy scent of mud was eerily claustrophobic. She felt paralysed. Her limbs wouldn't cooperate with her mind's demands. A pressure, like a dead weight lay on her and in her. But she couldn't move, couldn't speak-_

"Aaah!" Mac shot out of bed in a cold sweat. Disoriented, she started to panic. Vestiges of her nightmare danced around her peripheral vision. Trembling, she took several deep breaths to calm herself. She was aboard the U.S.S Guadacanal, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. But it wasn't reassuring at all. The grey walls of her quarters seemed to close in on her. Mac jumped out of her bunk and threw on her wrinkled marine camo uniform and dashed out the door. Two minutes and fifty three seconds later, Mac stood on a small landing, her long, thin hands clutching the cold metal rail. The salty air tingled her nose as she looked up at the stars.

Finally she calmed down enough to go back inside. This time it took her four minutes and twenty two seconds to get back down to the officers' quarters. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep so she grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down to finalize the paperwork for her case.

Forty-five minutes later, Mac looked up. Rain dotted the window. She sipped her coffee, the aroma pleasant and inviting. As she cupped it in both hands, a cyclist sped by. Yellow taxicabs honked their horns and- what the-? Mac shook her head. She was on an aircraft carrier, not in New York City. The scene appeared to melt before her and her quarters came back into view. "Not again," she muttered. This ship was driving her crazy.

At 0457 she knocked on Gunnery Sargeant Galindez's door. She heard some rustling noises and the door creaked open. The Gunny was half shaved with a towel over his shoulder. "Colonel?" he asked, confused.

"Muster up to the gym in ten, Gunny, I've got some demons to fight." Some days she was glad she was a Colonel, she didn't always have to explain herself.

xxx

The heavy bag swayed as Mac leveled another devestating kick to it's center. She spun back to position, imagining her opponent preparing an attack and feinted to the right, ducking low to apply three quick jabs to where the kidneys would have been. In the background, she heard a loud click and knew Galindez had arrived, three minutes early. She continued to concentrate on the bag, however, and didn't even acknowledge his prescence as he took up position behind the punching bag, supporting it and moving it in a slow circular pattern.

"Everything okay ma'am?" he asked.

"No Gunny," Mac replied. Her body coiled like a spring and she unleashed an explosive uppercut, the power coming from the balls of her feet. A jab and a cross struck the bag followed by a knee to the left side.

"Bad dreams?"

Mac didn't answer. Her fists pounded the heavy bag. With each hit, she imagined the shadows vaporizing into nothingness. She kicked hard at the bag, no longer seeing it...

_Hot labored breathing on her face. She couldn't see, couldn't open her eyes. She didn't want to. The powerlessness and loss of control overwhelmed her. She had to do something, but she couldn't-_

"Ma'am?"

Mac yelled and punched, but the impact felt different, harder somehow. Galindez suddenly flew backwards, clutching at his face."Oh my God! Gunny!" Mac had just sucker-punched him in the face. She knelt down beside him, "I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"Yes ma'am." He shook his head. A small trickle of blood came down from his cracked lip, "Don't worry, my head's harder than you think."

Steadying him, Mac led the Gunny to a bench and then grabbed an ice pack from a nearby first aid kit.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" he asked, "I've never seen you so scared."

"I guess I owe you that." Mac sighed. She applied the ice pack to his already swelling jaw. "I had a nightmare last night... and it was so real, so vivid." She looked away and down, not wanting to admit what she felt. "I felt like I didn't have any control over what was happening to me." Leaning forward, she put her elbows on her knees and looked ahead thoughtfully.

"You think it's a vision?" Galindez adjusted the icepack and winced.

"That's the thing, I can't pinpoint it to anything that's going on right now, I mean, I'm in the middle of the ocean, and I'm seeing visions of New York!" Mac shook her head in a futile gesture.

"Well, maybe it is just a nightmare. You've been under a lot of stress lately."

"Maybe." She conceded, she had been dealing with a lot of...crap. "Thanks Gunny, for everything." She patted his knee, grateful that he had been able to come with her. Out in the middle of nowhere, she needed a rock. She was just sorry it had to be Victor's head.

xxx

Thursday 600 pm

Olivia's Apartment.

Olivia had wanted to go back to work this morning, but after sleeping in until ten, she decided she needed a day off anyway. Besides, the place was a mess. After cleaning her apartment and stocking her fridge, (she had two containers of moldy chinese and a jug of milk that had gone sour,) she settled down in comfortable sweats with a hot cup of tea and some popcorn to watch a movie.

Her phone rang. She picked it up absently, still interested in the movie. "Benson."

It was Elliot. She knew he was concerned about her and expected him to drop by at some point. "Yeah, come on up." Padding to the door in her slippers, she unlocked it just in time for her partner to walk in.

"Hey," he said, "everything ok?"

"Yeah, fine, just some stuff I had to do." She wasn't ready to tell him about her father, not yet. She wanted more information first. Closing the door, she locked the deadbolt as a force of habit. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Nah, I'm good." He paced around for a minute, his long, grey trenchcoat emphazising his brooding mood. Finally, he sat on a comfortable chair by the television. "What are you watching?" he asked, shoving his mouth full of popcorn.

Olivia flopped on the couch beside him. "Shawshank Redemption. I rented it two weeks ago, never got around to bringing it back." They watched for a couple minutes in silence.

Finally Elliot spoke up, "So, you find anything on Joe Mackenzie?"

"How'd you know?" Olivia asked, shocked. He had said it so casually, so flippantly that it almost went right over her head. There was no way he could have known was there? Her mind rewinded through the last few days, she had been careful not to reveal too much.

"Just doing my job," he looked at her seriously.

"Oh, I don't believe this! You were investigating me?" Olivia stood up and marched around the couch, hands on her hips. What had he done? Run her credit card? Call Rikers? Demanded answers from Warner?

"Look, I was worried about you, I asked a few questions, that's all." Elliot stayed seated. Which was a good idea, since Olivia was pretty sure she would knock the senses out of him.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked, running her hands through her hair. If it was discovered that she illegaly ran her own DNA through the system... she didn't want to know the consequences.

"No," Elliot shook his head. "I asked Fin a couple questions, but he doesn't suspect anything, except you're under stress." Elliot took a deep breath and turned the T.V off. He looked at her expectantly.

Olivia sighed, she might as well tell him, she needed to talk about it anyway. She sank on the couch, curling her legs under her. Elliot leaned forward, interested in what she had to say.

"I have a sister, El," she started, "she's a JAG Lawyer in the Marines." Slowly, she unraveled her story about what she had discovered about her father and Colonel Mackenzie. "I left my card with the Commander to give to her."

"Do you think she'll call you?"

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Elliot's ringing phone disrupted the stillness. "Stabler." He listened for a minute, then looked at Olivia, a growing intensity in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut. "Looks like we got another vic related to the Beyers' case."

"I'm coming with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Sins of the Father

Part 4

A/N Thanks for the reviews everyone! They are much appreciated! This story will pick up the pace soon, so keep checking for updates.

Characters aren't mine.

Enjoy! Please R&R

Bellevue hospital.

Thursday

7:00 pm

Olivia peered through the glass window of the hospital room at their latest victim, Angela Bennett. Her white, dotted gown only intensified the paleness of her skin in contrast with the dark purple and black bruises splotched on her forehead around a large bloody bandage. She was so still, but it was not a peaceful stillness.

Olivia didn't look away when she heard the familiar footfall of Elliot's heavy steps.

Elliot's reflection in the glass was pensive as he too, observed the condition of their latest victim. "EMS says they found her naked in the backseat of her car, unconsious," he said.

Olivia's eyes went wide, "Who called it in?"

"Apparently, she did."

"We should get Munch to get a copy of the recording."

"He's already on it," Elliot said, turning to Olivia. "What did the doctor say?"

She sighed. "He doesn't know how much she remembers, he thinks she might have some form of amnesia."

Elliot rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked up at Olivia."You ready?"

Olivia was as ready as she could be. "Yeah."

They walked in to the room, Olivia in the lead. She walked up to the bed slowly. "Angela?" she asked. Angela's eyes fluttered open and she blinked in confusion at the detective.

"Hi, my name is Olivia,"she said softly, "I'm a detective with the special victims unit." Pointing to Elliot, she introduced him, "This is my partner, detective Stabler." He made himself as non-threatening as possible and stood simply at the far corner of her bed.

Mentally, Olivia walked through the steps she would take to help Angela recover details from her attack. "Can you tell me what happened Angela?"

Angela looked blankly at the detective, but her eyes were fearful, as if she was trying to recall a distant nightmare. "I don't know." she said. "I was getting in my car, and then I was here." She stopped, frowning. "Do you know where my clothes are?" She looked around the room nervously, one hand gripping her gown, as if she was trying to rip it off.

Olivia came up beside her. "Someone took them, do you know who took your clothes?" Maybe Angela knew her attacker, maybe she could identify him.

"How could someone take my clothes? I was wearing them." Angela sounded alarmed and confused. Olivia didn't blame her. Waking up naked and bloody in your own car was a very shocking experience.

"We think you were grabbed from behind, and your attacker smashed your head against the door of the car." Elliot said carefully.

Angela's eyes drifted upwards, lost in thought. "I... I don't remember."

"Angela, at some point you woke up and called 911 from your cellphone, you told them that you had been raped, do you remember that?" Olivia asked.

For a moment, Angela just stared in shock. She swallowed a few times and then asked, "Where are my clothes?"

"Angela, do you know why you're here?" Olivia asked. She dreaded the answer, if Angela couldn't remember what happened, they may not have a case. Worse yet, she might not want to remember. Olivia sighed and sat down next to Angela. "You were attacked from behind and knocked unconscious." The detective swallowed and continued, "While you were unconscious you were raped." Her voice caught on the last few words. She watched Angela's body language and tried to guess her state of mind.

She shook her head, "No... no, I wasn't raped, I was just in an accident right? That's why I'm here. I was in an accident."

Elliot cleared his throat. "There are bruises... on your body, that aren't consistant with being in a car accident."

Angela shifted in her bed sheets, shaking her head, "No, no, I wasn't...who would do that?"

Olivia sighed with frustration, this was going nowhere. Angela was in complete denial. "Angela," she said, "we believe the person who attacked you attacked another woman, and he might attack someone else if you don't help us." She licked her lips and looked in Angela's disbelieving eyes. "If you let the doctors examine you, we might find evidence that we can use to find and convict your attacker."

"No, no... I wasn't raped. I wasn't."

xxx

_The faint scent of perfume and bodywash excited him. He felt the smooth texture of the silk blouse against his cheek and revelled in it. With calloused fingers, he stretched it out over the mannequin. Yes, this would make a great addition to his collection._

xxx

SVU Squadroom.

800 am Friday.

"All right people, we've got another victim." Cragen started, he looked around at his detectives. Elliot and Olivia looked tired, they had been up all night talking to the victim's friends and family. Munch's face was unreadable behind his tinted glasses, and Fin- well, Fin was Fin. "Let's make sure this is our last one. What do we have?"

"Angela Bennett," Elliot posted the picture of Angela on the board. "Thirty-six-year old art curator, works at Whitney Museum." He wrote Whitney under her photo.

"She was attacked around 330pm yesterday, at the same coffee shop as our last vic Elizabeth Beyers" Olivia wrote the name of the coffee shop underneath Whitney and then put Elizabeth's photo on the board, drawing a line between the two victims.

"Our guy attacks 'em from behind while they're getting in the car. Drives them to a location in Central park where hs rapes 'em, then drives them back to the same area where he picked them up." Fin wrote the MO on the board. "Wipes his prints and takes the vic's clothes, leaving them naked in their own car."

"He's getting bolder, attacking in the daylight now." said Elliot.

"Anything on Angela's car?" Cragen asked Munch. Fin and Munch had recovered the car last night and had it towed to CSU for processing.

"So far, nothing. Nada, zilch, zippo." Munch said in his usual cynical manner. His phone rang and he picked it up, talking quietly into the reciever. Suddenly he stood up and threw his coat on. "That was the lab, they got the 911 tape for us, I'm going to pick it up."

Cragen nodded, giving silent permission for the detective to leave. "Olivia, did we get a rape kit done?"

She shook her head, "Angela's too traumatised right now. She won't consent to it."

"You'll have to try again, Olivia." Cragen directed.

"I left a message with her mother, I'm still waiting for her to call me back."

Cragen addressed the group, "Let's see what we can find out about our perp." He turned to George Huang, an FBI profiler and psychiatrist who often helped the unit. "Huang, what's your profile of this guy?"

Huang took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms, thinking. Finally, he said, "We're looking at someone who's methodical and meticulous, he's had a rough childhood with no father figure and a mother who abused him. It's possible his mother may have been a professional, like a teacher or a lawyer."

Elliot furrowed his brow. "What makes you say that?"

"He's acting out his revenge. He's attacking people who were his mother's age when he was a child, people who had similar professions." Huang walked up to the board, studying the MO. He shook his head, "He blames her for whatever happened in his life. The way he attacks women, from behind, raping them and then taking their clothes, suggests that he wants to make them feel vulnerable and exposed, like he was when he was a child."

"So he's an anger rapist." Fin stated.

"He's definetly angry," Huang replied, "but everything that he's done is so carefully planned. Anger rapists usually attack on the spur of the moment, when the opportunity arises. Attacking in the daylight like this- he's making a statement." Huang looked at Cragen. "He wants to prove something."

"You know, I think Aberdeen is looking real good for this." Elliot said.

"He's the right age for a serial rapist," Huang said, "What's his occupation?"

"He runs some kind of renovation company,"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he had somethin' goin' on the side." Fin remarked.

"Did you run his financials?" Cragen asked Fin.

Fin stood up, reaching across his desk to pick up a couple sheets of paper. "Social's clean, there's no minor purchases on his credit card, so he uses cash. " He thumbed through the sheets. "Our suspect makes enough to pay his bills and rent and stash some away for a rainy day."

"Smells fishy to me." said Elliot.

"All right, Elliot, Olivia, put Aberdeen on 24 hour survelliance." Cragen said, choosing a course of action. "In the meantime, Fin, I want to know everything there is to know about him. Go back and interview our victims, see if they know each other and if there's a link between them and Aberdeen." Cragen gave one last look around at his crew and gave an encouraging nod. "Let's get to it."

xxx

Outside John Aberdeen's Residence

Friday

11:00 am

Elliot huddled in the unmarked squad car, sipping his coffee. Olivia sat beside him, gazing out the passenger window. They were parked outside Aberdeen's apartment, watching for any movement. So far, there had been no activity. No one in or out of the building since they started.

A familiar buzzing sensation got his attention and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Yeah," he said, looking at Olivia as he listened. Munch had gotten the 911 tape, but it wasn't the victim who called it in. "Play it for me." He listened intently and his eyes widened in shock as he recognized the voice. "Yeah, that's him. Listen, call Fin, get him to check his work. We'll see if he's home."

Elliot snapped the phone shut and looked at Olivia. "That was Munch. Angela didn't call 911 yesterday- John Aberdeen did."

"What?" Olivia asked, taken aback.

"He used the victim's cellphone." This was one puzzling rapist. Elliot didn't understand it. Was the perp feeling remorse? Did Aberdeen even do it? Whatever it was, they needed to talk to him. Now.

"We'd better check his apartment." Olivia said. They jumped out of the car and crossed the street. Elliot sprang up the stairs and banged on the door. "Open up, Police!"

"El," Olivia pointed at the doorknob.

A bloody smudge decorated the keyhole. Elliot kicked hard, bashing the door open. It swung back, revealing a dark apartment. Drawing his gun, they entered. "Police, show yourself!" They didn't hear anything except for the sounds of their own footsteps on the hardwood floor.

"Clear!" Olivia called, checking one of the rooms.

"Clear!" Elliot called. Another room empty. "Olivia, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked. They met in the living room, Olivia peering at the rest of the house.

"He skipped town," Olivia holstered her gun.

The whole place was empty. Nothing was left except for a few scattered papers on the floor.

Elliot's phone buzzed. He flipped it open, watching as Olivia double checked the empty rooms. "Stabler." It was Fin. He was just at Aberdeen's worksite. Apparently, Aberdeen had taken some sudden vacation time.

"Elliot," Olivia called.

He followed her voice and found her kneeled in the main hallway. Clutched between her gloved fingers was a baby's pacifier.

xxx

Thursday morning (almost a week later)

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church

The pristine features of the Judge Advocate General's Headquarters still reminded Colonel Sarah Mackenzie of her old high school, only better maintained. Stepping out of her Corvette, she took in a deep breath of fresh air. It would be awhile before she would breathe it again, she had a lot of paperwork to finish.

"Good morning Tiner," Mac strolled into the bullpen, briefcase in hand.

"Good morning Colonel Mackenzie, good to have you back ma'am." The young Seaman said brightly.

Mac smiled, as the admiral's assistant, Tiner was instantly likeable by everyone here. He had a knack for knowing what people needed, when they needed it. She unlocked the door to her office and set her briefcase down. A pile of folders lay on her desk. _Just great,_ she thought. Out loud, she said, "I'm gonna need a-"

"Coffee ma'am?"

Mac turned around, startled. "Tiner!"

"Sorry ma'am," Tiner adopted a puppy dog face, "I thought you might like some coffee." He handed the mug to her, "Lots of sugar, just the way you like it."

"Thanks Tiner. Dismissed." She cupped the mug in her hands and took a sip of the warm brew. Setting it down, she walked around her desk and opened the blinds. For a few moments she centred herself. She had left Washington abruptly after her break-up with Mic, but there were still a lot of things she needed to resolve, and that meant she couldn't keep running away.

"Mac! back so soon?" A familiar voice came behind her.

Commander Rabb's towering frame filled the doorway. Mac suppressed a chuckle, the reflection of the sun on his Navy whites almost made him glow. Instead, Mac gestured for Harm to come in. She sat down, elbows on the table, her chin resting on her interlaced fingers."Yeah, I made a deal with the defendant. A punitive letter of reprimand and a pay cut."

"You went easy on him? I didn't know you went easy on squids," Harm said. He took a seat and leaned back, crossing his legs.

"Yeah well, I like to keep people on their toes," she smiled. "How's your case going?" The familiarity of their banter was reassuring. They had worked together for years, and she felt she knew where they stood. At least professionally.

"Well, there was enough physical evidence to bring it to trial, so now I gotta play ball in court." He sounded doubtful. "My client could be facing 7-12 years in Leavenworth, and Turner's gonna be hard to make a deal with."

"What's your defence?" asked Mac, curious.

"That he was seduced." Harm said matter-of-factly.

"You really think that's going to fly?" She didn't believe it, it seemed too lowbrow for Harm. He was supposed to defend his client, not prosecute the victim.

"There's no other way," Harm shrugged, "But you know me, always an ace up my sleeve." He stood up to go, pushing his chair in.

"Colonel Mackenzie, Commander Rabb," Tiner interrupted, "The Admiral wants to see you in his office."

The two JAG lawyers exchanged glances and headed for the Admiral's room.

Colonel Mackenzie walked in and saluted her commanding officer. "Admiral," she greeted. She had nothing but the utmost respect for the former Navy Seal.

"Colonel, Commander," Chegwidden nodded to them from his large oak desk. He stood up and walked around it, crossing his arms. "Please, have a seat." Harm took a seat in the large leather chair to the left, while Mac took the one on the right. She looked at the Admiral expectantly, awaiting orders.

"Commander Rabb, how's the rape case going?" Chegwidden asked, removing his reading glasses and placing them on his desk.

"It's going, sir," Harm said, "I'm working on a solid defence." That earned him an icy look from Mac.

"Do you think it's in your client's best interest to cop a plea?"

"At this point, no sir."

"And you're sure about that?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well then," Admiral Chegwidden stopped pacing and sat at his desk. "Let me tell you what's going on," He folded his hands together. "There's been an incident aboard the Harrison submarine," he started, "and due to the sensitive nature of those involved the SecNav has requested Commander Turner to come aboard and help with the legalities because he is most familiar with submarine protocol. Since he's away, I'd like Colonel Mackenzie to take over as the government for your rape case.

"Commander," the Admiral asked, "do you have a problem with that?"

Harm's eyes grew large in surprise at the news. He shot a glance in Mac's direction and then looked back at Chegwidden. "Uh, no sir," he said.

"Very well, I've spoken to the Judge, and the trial will be recessed until Monday morning. Colonel, Commander Turner forwarded his notes and witness list to your desk, I suggest you get started."

"Aye sir," Mac said, standing up. She was intrigued by the recent chain of events. Harm was in for it now.

xxx

Mac's apartment.

Thursday 630pm.

Mac sighed as she finally folded the last of her laundry. She was exhausted. In a few minutes she was going to run a hot bath, and afterwords sink her teeth into a warm pepperoni pizza with extra pepperoni and cheese. She wasn't much of a cook, and besides her fridge was empty.

As she started her bath, she heard a knocking at her door. She padded over, slipping on her comfortable bathrobe. Opening it, she wasn't surprised at the visitor who stood before her. "Harm," she said, her fingers tied the knot of her robe as she leaned against the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Hefting a large paper bag in his arms, Harm replied, "Well, I was in the neighbourhood, and I thought you might need something to eat, so I brought you some groceries."

"That's sweet of you, Harm." Mac stepped back, allowing him to enter.

"Well, you can buy me lunch sometime." He said. He put the bag on the counter and started to put away it's contents.

"I already ordered pizza. Do you want to stay awhile? You could fill me in on our case." Mac's voice drifted from the bathroom, as she had to turn off the water for her bath.

"I would like to stay Mac, but I already made plans." He called back.

"Oh." She said, disappointed. She had hoped that they could talk, clear the air a little. She knew he felt bad for not being there when Mic left her, and she wanted to tell him that she shouldn't have left Washington so quickly, and it wasn't his fault that she left. Their relationship was so complicated sometimes. Especially at moments like this.

He finished putting away the last of the groceries and noticed the large stack of mail on her counter. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot," he said, spreading out the assortment of mail, He found the business card behind an alumni letter from Duke U. "A detective came by last week looking for you, something about a cold case." He handed the card to Mac, who looked at it in confusion.

_NYPD_

_Manhattan Special Victims Unit_

_Detective Olivia Benson_

_212-555-2734 _

She flipped the card over and read the name on the back of the card.

"Harm, it's about my father." Suddenly she wasn't hungry.

"Are you gonna call her?"

"It's none of your business Harm," a part of her wanted him to leave, but she ignored it. Instead she stared at the card "I left him years ago, I don't know what he's done in that time, and now he's dead," she sighed. Crossing her arms, she paced the room, lost in thought.

Harm walked over and put one leg up on the arm of the sofa. "You should call her anyway, Mac." He looked up at her. "At least tell her you don't know anything. Think of it as a professional courtesy."

"I guess so." Mac still stared at the card. Her father's life was a mystery to her. Although she had forgiven him for the things he did and put it behind her, she still didn't completely understand him.

"Well, I should go." Harm excused himself. "Let's go for lunch tomorrow, discuss the case." He opened the door to go. He looked back at her, his green eyes full of concern, "I'll uh, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, thanks for coming by." Mac walked up behind him and held the door open for him. After watching him for a moment, she closed the door and sighed. She apreciated their friendship, but somehow neither of them could admit their deeper feelings for each other and it made things...awkward.

Still, Harm was right. She should call this detective. It didn't seem fair to not call her.

Mac picked up the phone and dialed. Bringing the phone to her ear, she held the card in front of her.

"Benson." the voice came out of nowhere. It was curt and business-like.

Mac flinched in surprise, hesitating. She didn't know what to say.

"Hello?" Benson said. "Hey, anybody there?"

Mac took a deep breath. "Hi, this is Colonel Mackenzie, you left me your business card here in D.C." She managed to keep her voice even.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a murmur, and then Detective Benson spoke, "Right," There was surprise in her voice, like she hadn't expected her to call. "Uh, look, this is pretty personal stuff, maybe we could meet in person? I can arrange a trip to D.C." She sounded tense and distracted.

"That's really not necessary, Detective." Mac replied. "Joseph Mackenzie died two and a half years ago. I hadn't spoken to him in almost 20 years, and I don't know anything about his time in New York. There's nothing I can help you with."

"Maybe there is," Benson pressed, the tone of her voice changed, it was softer, almost comforting. "Did he leave any belongings? Maybe some photos or letters? "

Mac thought back to the day she had buried her father. She had gotten his address from the Priest at the hospice and had gathered a few of his belongings from a mobile home that he rented. She put them together in a cardboard box and kept it in storage, never finding the time or the courage to go back and look through them. "Yes," Mac said softly. A lump rose in her throat.

"I know this is hard, but would you mind going through them again? Anything with an address or a name would be helpful, and maybe an old picture of him?"

"I think I can arrange that." Then the lawyer in her kicked in. "Has my father been accused of a crime?" she asked.

Detective Benson hesitated. "That's still under investigation."

"I see." Something didn't feel right about this, but Mac couldn't put her finger on it.

"Well, thank you Colonel," Benson filled in the awkward moment, "You've been very helpful. I'm sorry I had to bring this all up again."

"That's okay, I understand." She did, but she didn't. Her gut was telling her that something didn't make sense. Mac hung up the phone, lost in thought.

Later that night, Mac retrieved a large cardboard box from storage and sat it on her bed. Sighing, she sifted through its contents. After looking through an assortment of pictures, she found one of her father in a Marine uniform that seemed appropriate to send to the detective. She sorted through a box full of unopened mail, some of it from forty years ago, tossing the bills and putting the letters on her lap. One dusty, aged letter got her attention. Now she knew why Detective Benson's name sounded so familiar. _So, this is a personal matter, isn't it, Detective? _


	5. Chapter 5

Sins of the Father

Part 5

Mac's Apartment

Friday, 5:00 AM

_It was a warm and sunny day. Bright blossoms from a nearby orchard wafted the scent of cherries and oranges. Mac stood at the base of a small grave marker. "Good-bye, dad," she said, but her voice sounded strange. Then the light shifted, became darker, moodier. Thunder rolled in the distance, lightning spasmed across the sky. She was running, but she didn't know why, and she didn't know where she was running to. A strange emotion gripped her. Not anger, not fear, but terror. The rain pummelled her and she felt like she was drowning..._

Mac gasped awake. Not again, she thought. Her whole body was soaked with sweat. Shaking, she pulled her legs up in a fetal position and held her face to her knees, catching her breath. The terror still lingered, an after image of her nightmare. Slowly, her heart rate steadied, her breathing calmed. The tremors that raked her body stopped and she rolled over onto her side. After a few moments, she sat up. She needed to take a shower.

JAG headquarters.

815am

"Good morning sir," The Gunny offered a crisp salute to which the Admiral returned.

"Morning Gunny," greeted Admiral Chegwidden as he strolled into the bullpen.

There was something about coming early that was appealing to him. He liked to get a feel for the day before it was cluttered with everyone else's thoughts and emotions. It was kind of a SEAL thing. On reconnaissance missions in the field, SEAL's often scouted their targets long before they planned their attack, gaining knowledge on everything from terrain to weather to the indigenous personnel and their habits. It made for a higher success rate for the mission.

For example, noting Lieutenant Sims' desk carefully organized, while Lieutenant Bud Roberts' desk contained a number of sticky notes and a stack of file folders on his desk meant that Harriet was keeping her husband in line. He made a mental note to talk to Bud about putting his files away at the end of the day, however. Interestingly, Rabb's desk also had a stack of files as well.

He walked past a few more desks and approached his own office. Unlocking the door, he set his briefcase down and then made his way to the break room for his morning cup of coffee. He was surprised to find Colonel Mackenzie there as well. "Colonel, you're here early," he remarked.

"Sir, I actually came to speak with you." Mac said.

The Admiral looked her up and down and could see that something was bothering her. While she covered the dark circles under her eyes well with make-up, the tap of her fingers on her coffee mug gave away her brooding mood.

"Meet me in my office," he said. Never a dull moment here he thought as he poured his coffee.

A few minutes later there was a knock on his solid oak door, he took off his reading glasses and looked up from his newspaper. "Have a seat, Colonel." he said, gesturing for her to come in. Mac sat down on the leather chair opposite his desk. "I hear you got a plea from the defendant on the Guadalcanal?"

"Yes sir, I didn't feel it was necessary to make a mountain out of a molehill."

He nodded. No sense wasting time or money when something can be quickly resolved. "Then what can I help you with?"

"I'm needed in New York City to provide information about my father to the NYPD." There was urgency in her voice that worried him. He listened as she told him about the detective who visited her apartment a week before.

"I thought your father was dead." He crossed his arms, wondering what the NYPD wanted with a former enlisted Marine.

"Apparently his name came up in a cold case investigation, and Detective Benson wants to ask me a few questions." Mac looked down at her hands nervously.

"I assume Rabb and Roberts have already volunteered to take over your caseload for today?" Chegwidden remembered that stacks of files that covered their desks. That was Mac's doing.

"Yes, I've already arranged that."

"Very well Mac, you may go," Chegwidden resigned, "But your report on the plea bargain of your case better be on my desk at 0900 Monday morning. Understood?"

"Aye sir, thank you, sir." Mac saluted and left the office.

xxx

1100 AM

New York City

"ZNN weather reports severe thundershowers for most of the state of New York, particularly in the eastern and south eastern part of the state as Hurricane Teresa affects the coast. This system will pass..." Mac switched off the radio in her rental car as she headed onto the freeway from the airport. As she drove through downtown Manhattan. Mac considered the items that she had brought for Detective Benson. After talking with Benson on the phone, she had been content to mail her the them and forget anything ever happened. But when Mac found the unopened letter, she wondered what the detective really wanted to know.

It took some time to find a parking spot, but she found one near a local coffee shop. Walking inside, she checked out the scene. It was a pleasant place and the smell of freshly ground coffee perked her up. She ordered a cappuccino and weaselled into a seat that overlooked the street. Savouring her hot beverage, she looked out the rain spattered window for a few moments. A cyclist sped by, and yellow taxi cabs honked their horns.

_Whoa, deja vou_. The scene felt eerily familiar. She shook her head and pulled out a manila folder that she had made up this morning. A few articles and police briefs and a couple photos offered a glance at NYPD special victims detective Benson. Mac was a lawyer, she was going to be prepared to counter anything the detective might throw at her.

"Well," she sighed to herself. It was time.

xxx

1145 AM

SVU Squadroom

A.D.A Alex Cabot was more than a little angry, she was furious. She had just been caught off guard by a few nosy reporters who thought it was their business to know everything about the serial rapist who plagued professional women when they went to grab a coffee. Her steps pounded angrily on the tile floor of the 1-6 Precinct. Someone was leaking information on a lukewarm case and she wanted to know who.

"Captain Cragen," she called, walking into the squadroom. The detectives, all working diligently on something or other, looked up in surprise at the sound of her voice. Except Munch of course, nothing really surprised him. He merely acknowledged her presence with the raise of his eyebrow over his tinted glasses. "I'd like to speak with you in your office."

"Of course." Cragen said neutrally. He opened the door for her and closed it behind him. Walking to the front of his desk he leaned against it, hands in his pockets. "What can I do for you Miss Cabot?" he asked, curious.

"Which one of your detectives went to the press on the Beyers case?" She asked, a little too harshly.

"I'm not aware of anyone on my squad doing such a thing, or I would have informed you." His voice was calm and steady.

"Well, I just had a rather interesting discussion from a reporter who had a little too much information than what I authorized to be released."

"Like what?" Cragen asked.

"That their clothes were taken."

"This might work for us. So far we've come up with nothing, and our main suspect has ducked under the radar. Just a second," Cragen popped his head out the door. "Olivia, can you and Elliot come here for a moment?"

"Elliot just ran to grab some coffee, Captain," Olivia said as she walked into the office.

"Well, I'll fill him in later. Looks like we might have a lead."

Olivia looked first at Cragen, then at Alex. "What's going on?"

"Someone talked to the press, and it wasn't us. I want you and Elliot to find out who." Captain Cragen looked at Alex. "What was the name of that reporter?"

"James Richardson, he works for the Sun."

xxx

1145AM

1-6 Precinct

The precinct buzzed with echoing voices and footsteps. Uniformed officers escorted suspects and victims this way and that and Mac paused a moment, taking it all in. She walked up to the main desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Detective Benson?" she showed the grizzled officer the business card.

"Yeah," he said, barely looking at her, "Stairs to the right, second floor, two doors to the left."

"Thank you." She followed his directions and stopped at the open doorway, peering into the unit's office. The large room was full of character, a couple groups of desks sat facing each other, each sharing a computer. Deeper into the room there was a central area with a white board and several large computer and television screens. Along the far wall was a couple of rooms with large windows. In a corner, there was a grey door. Mac believed that was where the more private interrogation rooms were.

"Can I help you?" Someone asked. Mac looked up to see a middle aged man carrying a tray of coffee. Rain soaked his hair and the top of his coat. She could tell by his stance that he was probably one of the detectives who worked in the unit.

"Is Detective Benson here?" she asked.

He looked around the room, his gaze stopping at the Captain's office. It looked like Olivia was in there with Cragen and Cabot . "Yeah, she's just in a meeting right now, but she should be out in a few minutes. Come in, have a seat." He gestured to a desk. "Wet out there, eh?" He threw his jacket around the back of his chair.

"Very." Mac gave a small smile and watched as the detective handed out coffees to his co-workers. He circled back and took a seat across from her

"Detective Stabler," He offered his hand.

Mac shook it, noticing the Marine Corp tattoo on his forearm. "Colonel Mackenzie." There was a strange look in Detective Stabler's eyes when she said her name, but it vanished.

"You were in the Marines?" she asked, nodding at the tattoo.

"Yeah, got me through college." By the look in his eye there was more to that, she knew, but she didn't press. "Can I get you something? Soda? Coffee?" he asked.

"No thank you, Detective."

An awkward moment between them was broken by Cragen's voice, "Elliot, come join us in my office, I need you to hear this."

"Uh, Captain, there's someone to see Olivia-"

"You can come in and tell her yourself."

Elliot nodded and looked back at Sarah. "She'll be right out."

Mac watched as Detective Stabler walked into the office. For a second, she was alone. Another Detective was talking on the phone, his large, tinted glasses covered most of his narrow face. She settled into the chair and crossed her legs. Her eyes skimmed over Detective Benson's desk and settled on a photo of Benson and what appeared to be her mother. She picked it up and traced the edges briefly before setting it back on the table.

The door to the Captain's office opened and a tall, well dressed woman walked out. "Tell me how it turns out, Captain, I want this man off the streets."

Must be the ADA, thought Mac.

"Sarah Mackenzie?" Mac looked up from her reverie to see Detective Benson approaching her. Her dark hair bobbed as she strode toward Mac. Olivia's piercing eyes seemed haunted. There was a strange familiarity about her, as if Mac had seen her before.

"Hi," she said, standing up. "Please, it's Mac."

"Mac," she said, "it's nice to meet you." She flipped through some files on her desk. Pointing to an alcove upstairs she said, "Um, we can talk up there, it's a little more private." Gathering her folders, she strode ahead, leading the way.

"All right," Mac said. She clutched a large brown envelope close to her and walked up the stairs.

Olivia didn't know how to approach this. _With the truth,_ she thought. "Um, I have to say, this is a little unexpected, I didn't even think you would call." She led the way to a table and two chairs.

"Well," Mac responded, sitting down in a small chair, "When it comes to my father, you never know what to expect."

Olivia wasn't sure what to make of that statement. She remembered Commander Rabb's warning, _go easy on Mac, Detective. Her father's kind of a sore spot. _Olivia took that into account as she sat down across from the Marine. "So, what brings you here?" She honestly hadn't expected her to come all the way to New York to deliver a few items. In fact, Mac had seemed anxious to just send her the items and forget about it. _Something changed. _Olivia had to know what it was.

"Funny you should ask, detective," Mac crossed her legs elegantly and leaned forward. "Because I want to know the same thing from you. What were you doing, flying three hundred miles for a cold case?"

"Just doing my job." The lie slid out easily as Olivia tried to sidestep the issue. She felt suddenly defensive.

"Oh, really?" Mac wasn't buying it. "Is your mother's name Serena Benson?" she asked. Reaching into the large brown envelope she pulled out an old letter, still unopened. She slid it across the table to Olivia's hands.

Olivia's fingertips glided over the surface, feeling the etch of the pen marks that labelled it. In chiselled writing on the top left corner, was the return address of Joe Mackenzie. He had addressed the letter to Serena Benson, her mother. Large red letters in her mother's handwriting angrily scrawled_ Return to Sender_ across the envelope. "Where did you get this?" she asked increduously. Her father and mother knew each other? Did her mother have consensual sex with him and then lie about it? So many questions, and no answers. She desperately wanted to tear open the envelope. Instead, she simply looked up at Mac, lost.

"You already know the answer to that, don't you?" Mac questioned. "So what's this really about?"

Olivia stood up, wanting to escape the confines of her chair. It made her feel more in charge, more secure. Pacing the room, she fiddled with her hands. "My mother told me that she was raped... and that I-" Olivia shook her head, struggling with what to say next, "I was the product of her rape."

"You're accusing my father of rape?" Mac charged, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. She stood up as well, crossing her arms.

Olivia picked up on Mac's body language and retained an open, neutral stance. She handed her the police report that her mother had filed. "See for yourself."

Mac flipped through it, shaking her head in disbelief. "There's no concrete evidence here, detective. She doesn't even know what he looked like. You have no _proof._"

"That may be so, but why report it if it didn't happen?" Olivia argued. "Once she goes to the police, every aspect of her life is examined and cross examined. Every relationship, every detail of her personal life is at risk." She swallowed, and forced herself to take a breath. "There's no reason to lie."

"Except to cover an unplanned pregnancy with a lowlife like my father," Mac pointed out. "Serena Benson was almost finished her degree, she would have had plenty of jobs lined up for her. I'm sure getting pregnant by a non-com marine was the last thing she wanted."

This was going nowhere. Exasperated, Olivia sat down. "Why do you care?" she asked quietly. "You left him. You hadn't spoken to him since you were seventeen. And now you're defending him like he matters to you."

Mac turned her back to Olivia, her silence speaking more than words ever could.

Standing up, Olivia took a hesitant step towards Mac. She had struck a nerve, and now she had to salvage what she could. "I found you because I wanted to know who my father was. I don't know if he raped my mother, but that's what I was led to believe, and whether I like it or not, that history is a part of me." She paused, trying to find out what Mac was thinking, feeling.

Mac looked at Olivia, an odd expression of anger and sorrow on her face. "I made peace with him," she said angrily, "I forgave him for what he did to me and my mother. I put it behind me so I could move on." She rubbed her forehead. "And now? Every memory that I have of him... is tainted."

"I just want to know the truth." Olivia stated, her words came out choppy and slow.

"Well, go right ahead _detective_, because that's one thing I don't want to know." Mac reached for the large brown envelope that contained her father's belongings and ripped it open, spilling the contents on the table. She threw the envelope on the floor and stormed past Olivia.

Outside the precinct, Mac tried to gather her wits about her. The rain poured down her face and on her uniform, but she didn't care. She walked across the street to her car and opened the door, throwing her briefcase in the passenger seat. For a long while she sat there, thinking. She didn't dare admit that there was even a possibility that her father had raped someone. Doing so would damage the fragile peace that she had made with him when he passed away. She had managed to see him as a man who had tried to take care of her, despite his own problems. Now, however, everything about him was put into question. That was why she blew up at Olivia.

Everything was coming to a head. Why now? She desperately wanted to talk to someone, but that wasn't an option. Mic was out of the picture, Chloe was too young to understand, not that Mac would tell her anyway. And Harm? She wanted to tell him. He was her closest friend. Of everyone she knew, he would understand. But... then there was Renee'. No, she wouldn't tell him. At least not now. She would go back to D.C. and put it behind her. The truth hurt too much.

xxx

Olivia felt like she was in a dream. The objects strewn on the table had a surreal quality. A watch, inscribed Semper Fidelis; a photo of Joe Mackenzie standing in front of a house in his Marine dress uniform; a black address book, and a few letters. He had been a mystery to her. Her mother had scorned the day she had been raped, and scorned the child of the loveless union. She could never imagine good things about the man who raped her mother. But here was proof. Joe Mackenzie had married, had a daughter, served his country. Was he a rapist?

He had known her mother, written her a letter. The postmark indicated that the letter had been sent a month before Olivia was concieved. She picked it up, carefully examining it. She was about to open it when she was interuppted.

"Liv?" Elliot's voice startled her.

"Yeah?"

"Everything okay?"

Olivia sighed wearily. "I don't know." She looked over her shoulder at her partner. "I thought maybe..." She tapped the letter against the palm of her hand, "Maybe we'd connect." Hollowness engulfed her words, and Olivia bit down, resisting the emotions that tugged at her. Never had she felt more alone.

Elliot pulled up a chair and sat beside her. "She'll come around, just give it time."

Olivia nodded, appreciating his optimism. "I hope so." Gathering up the items, she slipped them back in the envelope.

A tapping noise got their attention, and the two detectives turned to see Munch approaching them from the stairway. "Ah, so this is where the stars of the show hide when they have deep personal issues to discuss."

"What do you want Munch?" Elliot asked.

"I finally got a hold of that reporter, James Richardson?"

"Yeah... and?" Olivia raised an eyebrow.

Munch adjusted his glasses. "He was paid by someone matching John Aberdeen's description to publish a story on our case. The detail about the clothes? Richardson claims that his informant gave him that information."

"Can we get him in here for an ID?" asked Elliot

"He refuses to give us the identity of his informant, even if he is the perp."

"We can get a court order, compel him to give it up." Olivia contributed.

"Actually, Fin has a better idea."

xxx

200 pm

Sun Media

"Look, all you have to do is arrange a meetin' with him. Tell him your publisher wants more details before the story goes to print." Fin leaned back and gave the impression of nonchalance. He enjoyed playing these guys. Especially with Munch. He had to give his lanky Jewish partner credit, they were quite the odd couple. A skinny old white guy with large ears and a larger nose flanked by a stocky black guy made regular joes like Richardson nervous.

"No, I won't give away the confidentiality of my informant." Richardson was adamant.

"Fine, then we can arrest you for obstruction." Munch pulled out handcuffs from his belt clip.

"Wonder what your cellies will think when they find out you let a rapist get away." Fin added, standing up. They actually had no grounds to arrest Richardson, but the naive reporter didn't know that.

"That would make a great headline: Reporter beaten for covering for serial rapist." Munch snidely commented.

Fin stood in front of Richardson, sizing him up. "Hey, I got a friend in corrections, I'm sure a couple thugs owe him some favours."

Munch jingled the cuffs, looking at his partner, "What's the Miranda rights again?" he asked.

Richardson held his hands up in surrender. "All right, all right, I'll do it."

Fin picked up the receiver of Richardson's desk phone "Call him."

xxx

Olivia's apartment

600pm

A thunderous roar and a spark of lightning outside of Olivia's window failed to get her attention. The kettle squealed in the background, but she was oblivious. In her hands she held a yellowed envelope. It was nearly forty years old and had never been opened.

Olivia's hand shook as she held it, still unopened. A Pandora's box. It put into question her very existence. Was she living a lie? Would she find the truth? She picked up the knife and carefully ripped it open.

_My Dear Serena..._


	6. Chapter 6

Sins of the Father

Part 6

_He had been distracted recently, someone who was close to him knew too much and he had to take care of it. But now that had some time to himself, he studied his next mark. He sipped his black coffee and gazed over the newspaper at the woman at the table. She was alone and seemingly distracted, typing away on her laptop. He could hardly contain himself. He knew her from Before. In fact, she was responsible for the way he was. At last he would get his revenge. But he had to be patient. The rain would stop soon, and when it did..._

Stabler Residence

700 pm

Friday

Elliot wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He reached for his toothbrush and ran some water from the tap. It was early for him, but because of the rain, Cragen had sent everyone thunderstorms had caused a few major highways to be closed. Although now the rain had slowed to only a trickle.

"Are you coming to bed honey?" His wife Kathy called from the bedroom. They were alone tonight, the kids all staying at their grandparents and Kathleen was at a movie. His youngest son, Elliot, was fast asleep in his crib.

"Ih a ihet," he gargled, spitting out the toothpaste. A few seconds later, he heard her footfalls approach him. Her warm arms wrapped around his chest. He stopped and looked up at their reflection in the mirror. Holding her hand in his for a moment, he admired how cute she really looked.

"Times up." she said, sliding her hands down his chest.

"Really?" He smiled. He leaned in close, his forehead on hers. Their noses touched, their lips touched, their tongues touched-

The phone rang.

xxx

7:40 pm

Flashing red and blue lights lit up the dark street as Elliot pulled up to the crime scene. His leather shoes splashed in a puddle as he exited the car. Scrambling around the crime scene was several CSU investigators quickly bagging and tagging evidence before the rain destroyed it. The ME's van had just pulled up and Warner jumped out, walking quickly to the partially covered body. Olivia was also there, crouched over, snapping pictures.

"Whadda we got?" Elliot asked. Looking down, he took a quick sip of his coffee and licked his lips.

"It's Elizabeth," she said sadly. "Looks like she jumped." With a gloved hand, she gently placed the cover over the victim's head.

He sighed, it was one thing after another. "When did this happen?"

"911 call came in about 6:30."

"Which apartment is she in?" Elliot looked up at the large six-story building.

"404." Olivia stood up and nodded to the CSU team and handed them her camera.

"Let's check it out." Elliot led the way into the building, and pressed the button for the elevator.

"I can't believe it." Olivia said, she leaned against the wall. "I just talked to her a few days ago, she seemed okay."

"Liv, we don't know what happened yet." The elevator dinged and the door opened. Elliot followed Olivia in and pressed the button for the fourth floor. He was frustrated as well, Elizabeth's death could well mean the end of the case. No matter how she died, there would be no justice for her rape.

Stepping into the hallway, they ran into the sarge in charge.

"Detectives," The stocky man with a Bronx accent greeeted them. "Sargeant O'Brien." He waved to the apartment. "Crime scene's all yours."

"Find anything?" asked Elliot, narrowing his brows as he entered the apartment. He wanted to know the Sargeant's impression

"No sign of forced entry, no sign of a struggle." The sarge replied impatiently.

"She leave a note?" Olivia asked, surveying the living room. She walked out to the balcony and looked down to the crime scene below.

"No, but I found your card sitting by the phone." Replied O'Brian. He walked up beside her and handed it to her. "Looks like she was going to call you"

Olivia took it gingerly. "Maybe the rape was too much for her."

"What's all this?" Elliot gestured to the cluttered kitchen. Several panels of wood were stacked neatly to the side. A few tools lay haphazardly on the counter beside some stainless steel sink fixtures. Sawdust sprinkled the floor.

"Kitchen renovations," O'Brien said, "We're doin' the same thing at my place, replacin' the cabinets, the countertops, puttin' in a new sink." He sighed. "Look, everything is secure here, I'm gonna head downtown and fill out the paperwork, Seems pretty cut and dry ta me." O'Brian gave Elliot and Olivia a nod and left the apartment.

Something about the kitchen nagged at Elliot, he pulled out his notebook and started flipping through it. Having found what he was looking for, he placed a call on his cell.

Olivia walked up to Elizabeth's phone, the number 3 flashed on the answering machine. She pressed play and drifted to the rest of the apartment, looking for clues.

Beep: "Hi, it's Gillian, I didn't see you in class today, was wondering how you're doing. So... give me a call tonight and I'll bring over my notes."

Beep: "Hi, it's Jim, are you coming into work today or not? The boss is pretty ticked."

Beep: Nothing, then a 'click' sound as the phone was disconnected.

"Liv." Elliot called, snapping his cell phone shut. He put hands on his hips and walked over to her. "The reno company that's doing the kitchen? It's A&M renovations, John Aberdeen's company."

She raised her eyebrows. "That's how he found her. Check with Munch, see if Angela had renovations done too."

He sighed, "I did already, Munch is calling her now." He looked into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle. "Sleeping pills."

"She couldn't sleep, it's a sign of rape trauma."

"Yeah, but look at the date." he handed it to Olivia.

"These were perscribed yesterday," she said, looking at the bottle, "but half the pills are gone."

"So she drugs herself and then jumps?" It didn't make sense to Elliot, "Why not just take the whole bottle?" Elliot paced the hallway in frustration. "Something doesn't add up here."

"Maybe she was already dead and someone threw her over the balcony." Olivia speculated. "CSU will find something, I'm going to get her phone records, see who called and hung up."

"We'll want to talk to her friends and co-workers, see if anything comes up."

"Yeah." She said quietly.

"Liv, you ok?" Elliot asked. He was concerned for her. The last week had been frustrating, pressure from the media, the DA's office and Cragen had made their job more difficult. He knew that she hadn't slept well since they busted Aberdeen's apartment. The thought that he had a child with him scared them both.

"I'm fine El." Olivia said, pushing her hair back. "Let's find our perp."

xxx

Hubies Diner

820pm

Olivia blew on the hot vegetable soup. She didn't know how hungry she really was until they had sat down to order. Elliot just ordered a coffee, having eaten already at home. Munch was on his way with more information. They had to figure out the events that led up to Elizabeth's rape and eventual death.

"Alright," Elliot was saying, "Elizabeth needs some renovations done, so she calls Aberdeen's company and asks to make an appointment for a quote."

"They meet up, but the first guy is probably not our perp, or Elizabeth would have recognized him." Olivia added, remembering Elizabeth's hesitation at the line-up.

"Right, so maybe our first connection is the guy who does the actual reno's," said Elliot. Adding cream to his coffee, he stirred it saying, "He knows where she lives and follows her for awhile, he even has access to her place."

"He's a handyman, it's not hard to get a key cut, or pick the lock." Olivia was starting to get excited, they were finally on to something here. Aberdeen's reno company was the key.

"Right, but before that, he plans to rape her. He drives around the coffee shop a couple times, finds out the best time and place to do it."

"And when he gets the opportunity... "she said, enjoying the verbal ping-pong. Everything started to fit together.

"He rapes her outside the vehicle, because he doesn't want to leave any evidence."

"That's why he puts her back in the car and drives her to the coffee shop. He eliminates the crime scene." Blowing on a steaming piece of tomato, Olivia recalled Elizabeth's first report of rape.

"Then what?" Elliot asked.

She thought for a moment. What would drive him to kill her? "Elizabeth comes forward. He didn't think she would, he thought he scared her enough."

"That's why his next victim was so beaten up, he wanted to make sure she wouldn't wake up while he raped her." Elliot reasoned. He drank his coffee and made a face.

The soup was hot but satisfying, Olivia took another spoonful of the hearty broth. "So he waits until he goes to do the renovations on her apartment. That's how he got in." Olivia imagined the perp knocking on the door, and either Elizabeth opens it or he let's himself in. Most likely the latter.

Watching the coffee swirl as he stirred more sugar into it, Elliot added, "She's completely out of it, she'd just taken half a bottle of pills. He can't force her to take any more. But he wants to make sure she's dead."

"So he hurls her out the window."

"The perfect crime," Elliot stated. "Except for the reno company, there's nothing to link Aberdeen to Elizabeth. A half decent defense lawyer could get this guy out in no time."

"Ahem," a voice interrupted. "I think we might be able to get around that."

Looking up from another spoonful of soup, Olivia saw Munch sit down next to Elliot.

He shook the rain off his wet umbrella. "Remember the bloody fingerprint on the doorknob of Aberdeen's apartment?"

"Yes." Oliva and Elliot said at once.

"Well, the blood was Angela's and the print was the same print found on Angela's cell phone, and it wasn't hers."

So it must've been Aberdeen, Olivia thought, licking her lips. "Why didn't we hear about this earlier?" Olivia asked.

"There was a shooting in the lower eastside Manhattan, six people killed. CSU was a little busy."

"But wasn't the rest of the car wiped for prints?" Elliot asked.

"Yes." Munch answered.

Olivia shook her head, if Aberdeen took the time to wipe down the car, why not wipe the cell phone? Why call the police at all? "This doesn't make sense!"

"No, it doesn't." Elliot agreed.

"Hey, what about that meeting with the reporter?" Olivia asked Munch.

Her colleague shook his head. "He was a no-show. Fin called me on the way here."

"That's because our perp was throwing Elizabeth off her balcony." Elliot bitterly took another sip of coffee.

"Well, we might have some luck with Aberdeen, Cragen put out a warrant for his arrest and alerted the media."

"I guess that means we'll be on phone duty," Elliot stood up and stretched.

"Yeah," Munch stood up as well. "Fin and I are pulling all the records of Aberdeen's company, hopefully we can track him down."

Reaching into her wallet, Olivia pulled out a few bills.

"It's okay Liv," Elliot smiled. He flashed his Mastercard. "I got it. You got the last one."

Shoving the bills back in her pocket, she sighed. She was too tired to argue, "Fine." She strode out the door while Elliot paid up. "Meet you at the precinct, El."

The rain had finally stopped completely, and Olivia took a moment to breath the fresh air. It was invigorating. They finally had a couple of decent leads on their perp. Once Aberdeen was in custody, they would know the truth. She would be sure of that. The door of her car clicked as she unlocked it and slid easily into the drivers seat.

Closing the door, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out. "Benson."

xxx

845 pm

SVU squadroom

"Hey, what about Angela's house? Was there renovations done?" Elliot asked Munch as they climbed the stairs to the squadroom.

"Not on Angela's condo, but her mothers place." Munch responded.

As Elliot walked to his desk, he looked around. "Where's Olivia?" He asked. He thought she had gone ahead of him.

Captain Cragen stepped out of his office, "Olivia just called, she's at Bellevue. Looks like we may have another victim."

"What?" Elliot asked.

"She's still investigating to see if the MO fits our perp."

"I'll head over there."

"No Elliot, I need you here to man the lines."

"Captain, I believe I know how to find this guy." Elliot said confidently. He leaned against his desk, "The last two victims hired Aberdeen's renovation company to do some work inside their homes. He had access, that's how Elizabeth died."

Munch looked at the board. "All of the attacks are in a five-mile radius, maybe we can cross-reference the addresses from the company's files to this area, find our next victim."

"It won't work, our guy's already in the wind." Fin said, putting the phone down. "Just spoke with a man who works for A&M renovations. Aberdeen 'borrowed' the work truck last week when he skipped town."

"You got a plate number?" Cragen asked.

"Yeah, I already sent it to the local and state police, includin' the sheriff's department."

"Good, send a description to the media, see if anyone's spotted it. In the meantime, let's get on those phones."

The detectives got to work, answering phones as witnesses called in tips. Since it was pretty late, they didn't get very many, and the ones they did get were vague or unrealistic.

"SVU tipline," Fin answered. He rubbed his eyes, exhausted They had been at this for an hour and a half now. "Yeah? You found the truck? Where?" He scribbled something down, "Thanks bro," He slammed the phone down suddenly. "We got the truck, left in a parking lot on 16th street."

"Let's go," Munch stood up, relieved to be off of phone duty.

"I'm coming with you guys." Elliot jumped out of his chair and grabbed his jacket in one swift movement.

"No, you're staying here," said Cragen, "someone's gotta answer the phones."

Elliot sat back down. His cellphone rang this time. "Stabler," he news he heard wasn't good. Not good at all.

xxx

840 pm

Bellevue

Olivia strode into the chaotic ER and approached the desk, "Excuse me," she called over the noise. No one acknowledged her presence. "Hello?" she waved, trying to get the attention of a nurse.

Finally a short stocky blonde nurse approached her. "Detective Benson?"

Olivia regarded the shorter woman, noticing her nametag said Bonnie. "I was called about a sexual assault?" She showed her gold shield.

"Oh yeah, the assault. She's in room 14," Bonnie said, leading the way. "I remembered a week ago we had another patient like this, and when I heard the news about that sicko I thought I should give you a call."

"What's the story?"

The nurse looked over the chart. "Don't know too much, some good samaritan picked her up in the rain with half her clothes missing. She collapsed before we could get a name. "They turned around a corner. "Whoever she is, she's one hell of a fighter. Her knuckles are raw and there's scrapes on her knees and palms."

"Did you do a rape kit?"

"They're doing one now, while she's sedated."

"What about our good samaritan?"

"Oh yeah, she's in the visitor's lounge, I asked if she could wait for you."

"Great, I'll talk to her first."

The nurse pointed out a young woman wearing an NYU sweat suit. She didn't look more than twenty years old. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight pony tail. A stryofoam coffee cup was mashed in her hands. Olivia approached her slowly. "Hi, I'm detective Benson. Can I ask you a few questions?"

The girl nodded.

Olivia sat down beside her. "What's your name?"

"Laura."

"What happened, Laura?" she asked softly.

"I was driving home from college," She said shakily, "I turned a corner and this woman practically runs into my car."

"When did this happen?"

"Um, around 8:00?"

"Where?"

Laura paused, "Somewhere along 14th street."

"And you helped her?"

"Yeah, well, I saw blood on her hands and it was scary you know? And she kept looking back like she was being followed."

"What was she wearing?"

"Her shirt was gone, and her bra was ripped."Laura fidgeted with her cup, "She had a dark brown skirt."

"Did she say anything?"

"Help me... She just kept saying that over and over."

"So she gets into the car, and then what?"

"I didn't know what to do and she's like, 'hospital, take me to the hospital. '" Laura paused, "Is she gonna be ok? She looked so beat up."

"Thanks to you, she'll be all right." Olivia patted Laura's knee, giving her some measure of comfort. "Did she say anything about her attacker?

"No."

"Thank you." Olivia handed Laura her business card. "If anything else comes to mind, call me."

She needed a coffee. Down the hall, there was a series of vending machines. Olivia headed over there, digging in her pocket for change. As she tipped the quarters in, a nurse called her name.

"Detective Benson? The patient's awake, she's asking to speak to the police."

Olivia picked up her coffee and followed the nurse down the hallway. Upon entering the room, Olivia gasped in shock as she recognized the battered face of the victim. She dropped her coffee cup and spilled its milky contents on the linoleum floor.

"Colonel Mackenzie?"


	7. Chapter 7

Sins of the Father

Part 7

A/N Thanks again for all your support readers, this was a difficult chapter to write. There are a few scenes of violence in this chapter that may be a little uncomfortable, but it probably is about what you would see watching Law and Order SVU.

Anyway, read on!

Earlier Friday:

In a quiet corner of a coffee shop, Mac sighed and closed her eyes. The report would have to wait. Her mind kept leaping back to the day she buried her father.

_The California sun beat down on her heavy Marine uniform, but Sarah felt only chills as she listened to Father Genero's words. There was no one else in the Orchard, save the larks. _

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." The priest intoned, but she did not hear him._ _When the small casket was lowered into the ground and the final words spoken;_ _Sarah Mackenzie whispered to the grave, "I forgive you." Her father's alcoholism, his jealous rages, his abuse. She let it all go..._

Could she forgive rape? Mac struggled to keep the doors of her mind open. Slowly, she realized that it wasn't really about her. Joe Mackenzie hadn't raped _her, _he hadn't raped _her _mother. She had to admit, it was entirely possible that he had raped Olivia's mother. No, it wasn't about her at all. It was about Olivia.

She took a long sip of her coffee and closed her laptop. Her hand settled on her blackberry. Perhaps she should call? Typing the numbers in, she hesitated on the talk key. What would she say? It was nearing 19:30 hours. Would it be too late? Almost subconsciously her thumb pressed the end key. Scrolling down her contacts to Harm's number, she pressed the talk key.

"Hello?" Harm's voice sounded distant. There was a sizzling sound in the background.

"Hey." Mac could almost smell his cooking through the phone.

"Mac, how's it going? Back from New York?" His voice was chipper with a slight shade of concern in it

"I'm still in New York, Harm, my flight was delayed."

"Yeah, its a helluva storm down here, I wouldn't even fly in this weather."

"Not like you haven't done that before." Mac commented.

"That wasn't entirely my fault," he scoffed.

"Whatever you say." Mac sipped her coffee. "Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to talk about the rape case."

"Uh, actually, I'm a little tied up right now," Pots and pans banged in the background. "Renee's over for dinner tonight."

"Oh." Mac mentally slapped her forehead. Of course he was with Renee' it was a Friday night. "Never mind then, I'll uh, call you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Harm's voice was overly laden with concern, like he could sense there was something more she wanted to discuss.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Forcing a smile, Mac added, "We'll go for lunch."

"Okay, I'll catch up with you later."

"Bye, Harm" The last drop of her coffee slid down her throat and left an acerbic taste on her tongue. Noticing the faint streaks of rain on the window, Mac sighed with relief. The rain had stopped, maybe she would be getting out of this God forsaken city sooner than she thought.

She stood up, gathering the contents of her briefcase and storing them away. It had grown remarkably quiet in the last couple hours. Mac stole a glance around the small cafe' and noticed she was alone, except for another man, who was reading the newspaper. Cold air assaulted her senses as she stepped out into the wind. Goosebumps prickled up her spine and she wished that she had thought to wear her overcoat, but it was in her car. Unlocking the door, she swung it open. Suddenly, her head snapped back and slammed forward, an explosion of pain sliced through her skull and then darkness enveloped her.

xxx

Bellevue Hospital

910pm

"Colonel Mackenzie?"

Mac slid her eyes over to the sound of the voice. It was familiar, but she couldn't place it. Her whole body felt heavy and numb, but she had to tell them what happened. She squinted as the plain clothes policewoman came closer, and then she realized who it was. "Detective?" she asked in disbelief.

Detective Benson's concerned face came into view. "Hey," she said softly.

"What are you doing here?" Mac was confused, how had she gotten here so fast? She had expected an officer to come and take an initial statement, not a gold shield detective this early in the investigation.

"The nurse called me, there's similarities between your attack and a case that I'm working." Olivia said. A sudden mixture of sadness, fear and regret filled her eyes. "I didn't know that it was you who was attacked. Um, if this is awkward, I can get someone else..."

"No, it's okay, please stay." Mac tried to sound calm, but a sob caught in her throat.

"What happened?" Olivia asked, sliding a chair over to the bed.

Mac swallowed, and began to tell the most difficult story of her life. "I was getting into my car when I was knocked out..."

xxx

The crunch of gravel and the low hum of an engine roused Mac from unconsiousness. Her eyes fluttered open. _What the hell? _A sharp pain cut through her head. Warm liquid oozed from her forehead to her ear. Lolling her head to the side, Mac tried to get a look at her surroundings. She was in the backseat of her rental, but she couldn't see the driver, her eyes wouldn't focus. Mac closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, her internal clock told her that she was missing about three and a half minutes, that wasn't good news. Somehow she remembered her cellphone was in a clip on her belt. Quietly, she reached for it, her long fingers feeling the rough fabric of her uniform, but it was gone.

The car came to a stop. Mac felt a rising panic, fearing what would happen next. She lifted her head and felt nauseous. Clearly she was in no position to make an escape. Instead, she closed her eyes and forced her body to go completely limp. At the right moment, she would attack.

The back door swung open and strong arms lifted her out, head first. Whoever her attacker was, he was strong. He dragged her a few yards, his arms under her armpits. She realized that at some point she had lost her shoes because her feet were wet and damp. Suddenly he released her, and Mac dropped like a sandbag to the ground. He was on top of her then, straddling her waist. Calloused fingers stroked her cheek and then tipped her jaw up, she could feel his hot breath on her face. Mac couldn't wait any longer. With one calculated movement, she wrenched his arm away and punched him in the nose as hard as she could.

"AAAH!" he howled, clutching at his face in agony. "Bitch!"

But she wasn't done yet. Kicking, she knocked him off of her. On all fours, Mac scrambled up to get her bearings. Dizziness almost overwhelmed her. "Help! Help me!" she screamed. A meaty hand clamped around her mouth and she was tackled into the mud. Pain erupted in her side as his pointed boots rammed into her ribs.

He turned her on her back and pressed his knee into her gut. She couldn't breathe. Looming over her, his cold grey eyes studied her, a predator eyeing his prey. Mac struggled under him, but it was futile. He grabbed her wrists. "Look at me,_ Mac_," he rasped, his voice like sandpaper. "My face is the last thing you're going to see before you die."

He ripped open her marine jacket, tearing at the shirt underneath. She felt the chill as the air touched her bare skin. Clawing at him, she scratched his neck with her nails. It was a futile effort, he merely swatted her right arm away and pinned it under his knee. Mac pushed and pulled, trying to get him unbalanced, but her attacker merely grinned devilishly. She felt his rough hand under her bra, and another hand crept under her skirt.

Mac snapped. The most primal emotions of fear and terror overwhelmed her and she panicked. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and everything became clear. Marine training kicked in. With her free hand she dug her thumb into his eye. He screamed again and shifted his weight, leaving her right arm free. She struck quickly, her palm to his jaw, and then boxed his ears. Her assailant spun away, releasing her from his pin. Mac rolled onto her stomach, stood up and started to run.

Heavy footsteps crashed behind her, and Mac increased the pace, tearing through the woods. Nothing mattered anymore, she was running for her life. Branches and thorn bushes scratched at her legs and arms as she forced her way through the dense underbrush. It wasn't enough. She was suddenly thrown off balance when the collar of her jacket was yanked back. Instead of fighting it, she went with it, slipping out of his grasp, leaving him with her jacket and shirt.

A thought occured to her as she spotted a rotted branch ahead of her. Running towards it, Mac fell. As fast as she could, she was up again, the wet wood firmly in her grip. Spinning suddenly, the branch collided into the side of the monster's head with a hollow 'thunk'. The man's 200 pound body collapsed to the ground. Mac dropped the branch and started running again. Street lights blinked only a few hundred yards away, and Mac could hear the sounds of distant traffic. She stumbled on, her only objective was to get to the road.

When she felt the cold pavement under her feet, Mac looked up into the headlights of an oncoming car and waved it down. "Please, help me," she pleaded to the young driver.

xxx

"...And then I was here." Mac finished.

Olivia reached over and held Mac's shaking hand. Hearing that story reminded her of her own experience with sexual assault. It wrenched her heart in so many directions. How could this happen? Olivia pushed the thoughts away and focused instead on the victim. "It's okay," she said, "you survived. You made it here and contacted the police. We'll find him." She handed a glass of water to Mac, which she gulped down.

"It's just that...I'm a marine, I should've known he was following me. I could've taken him out. How could I have been so careless?" Mac drew her arms around herself and looked away. "I mean, he didn't rape me, but it feels like he did."

"Don't think like that." Olivia said firmly. "Otherwise he wins. He was going to rape you and then kill you." She squeezed Mac's hand. "You escaped. Now help me put him away."

Mac nodded. "What do you want to know?"

xxx

_He was angry with himself, he had made a mistake and underestimated her. In all his fantasies, he had not imagined this. Now she knew who he was, and it wouldn't be long before the police discovered his real identity. Still, he had a plan. The media were on to John Aberdeen. He would make sure they got what they wanted, and after he licked his wounds, he would get what he wanted. Revenge._

xxx

10:00pm

Svu Squadroom

Elliot hung up the phone. Olivia had just told him that Colonel Mackenzie had been assaulted. She was in the hospital with fractured ribs and a concussion. The news was bittersweet, however, as Sarah had positively identified her attacker as John Aberdeen.

This was a case-maker, and he had to act quickly if they were going to catch this guy.

Elliot strode toward Cragen's office. "Cap!"

Cragen stepped out, hands in his pockets, a question on his face.

"I just got a call from Liv. Our third victim identified Aberdeen as the one who assaulted her."

"Alright, What are we doing to catch this guy?" Captain Cragen walked with Elliot to the tech room, where their crime analyist, Morales sat.

"I put an APB on the car our victim rented, we're also tracing her cellphone and credit cards, to see if they've been used by the perp."

"Is there a crime scene?"

"We think so." He walked to the map on the board. "Sarah was at the same coffee shop as the one Elizabeth and Angela frequented, she said that four minutes had passed since she was knocked out. Combine that with a park setting and a gravel road... Morales?

Morales looked over his computer at Cragen. "We think it happened in Union Square park, near 14th street."

"Call Olivia and tell her to get over there, I'll send some uniforms and a K-9 unit out to the area, meet her there and co-ordinate the search." Cragen said to Elliot.

"Who's gonna man the phones?" asked Elliot semi-sarcasticly

"As of now, the phones are dead."

xxx

Union Square Park

1020 pm

Elliot slammed the door of his unmarked cruiser and walked briskly toward the crowd of uniformed officers that circled Olivia's car. He felt energized by the recent turn of events. Despite another victim, they finally had enough evidence to bring the rapist to trial, and possibly a conviction. The helpless feeling he had felt before had been replaced by anger and gritty determination to throw this bastard behind bars. Squeezing his way through the crowd he caught Olivia's eye before looking at the map that was spread out on the hood.

"Team 3, you'll go east," she was saying. "We're looking for evidence of a chase. Snapped branches, blood, maybe some fabric or clothing. Remember that the victim used a large branch to incapacitate the perp, so keep an eye out for that as well. Let's go people." The officers nodded and dispersed in groups, each traveling in a different direction, their flashight beams bouncing out in all directions.

"You okay?" Elliot asked.

She turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Fine."

He could see that she was affected by the events of the last few hours. Heavy lines circled her eyes and emphasized the paleness of her skin. "You're not fine."

Olivia didn't respond to that. She folded up the map, tucking it into her jacket pocket. "Let's find this guy."

Elliot gestured to the park, "Which way?"

Olivia nodded down the gravel road, "West."

They walked a few moments together in silence. Finally Elliot broached the subject. "How is she?" He knew the Colonel's injuries would heal, but the emotional scars of an attack like this would never completely go away.

Olivia's dark eyes met his gaze, and he saw a profound sadness in them. "I don't know."

"She survived, Liv. Now we have proof to hang him"

"Yeah."

"It's not your fault." The words tumbled abruptly out of his mouth.

Olivia blinked in surprise. "I brought her here, El. I wanted to know about my father and I compelled her to come here. I knew that sicko was out there and I didn't warn her."

"Liv, it's not your fault." Elliot repeated. She wasn't responsible. He knew she knew that, but he also knew that until they actually had Aberdeen in custody, she would hold onto this guilt.

She gaped at him, about to say something when she was interrupted. "Officer Edwards to Detective Benson." Olivia's radio beeped.

"Yeah."

"We found the scene, about 300 yards east of our last position."

"On our way."

xxx

16th street parking lot

1030pm

"I'm telling you, the JFK assasination was all a conspiracy to continue the war in vietnam so the government could squeeze more money out of the pockets of the taxpayers..."

"Would you shut up with that bull?" Fin asked, irritated. One more conspiracy theory from his partners lips and he was tempted to make up a new conspiracy involving duct tape, rope, and a missing detective Munch.

They pulled up quietly into the nearly empty parking lot. Fin killed the headlights, and the two detectives peered out of the windows looking for the truck. "There." Munch pointed at a dark shadow.

They drove within twenty feet of the one-tonne truck, and then approached on foot, guns drawn. Fin crossed to the drivers side, Munch to the passenger side. "Police!" Fin yelled to the drivers seat. "Open up!"

There was no movement. He kept his gun trained on the drivers side as Munch opened the passenger door.

"It's clear." Munch clambered into the truck and swung the door open, looking down at Fin. "Need a ride kid?"

"I'll pass." He picked up his radio to call in CSU to recover the vehicle when Munch interrupted him.

"Fin, what was the description of Colonel Mackenzies rental?"

"Blue Ford Taurus. Why?"

"You think that's it?" Munch pointed behind Fin.

He turned, and saw the blue sedan a few feet away. "Someone's in there." Fin drew his flashlight and his gun, approaching the vehicle from the passenger side at an angle that would make it difficult for him to be shot at. Munch went around behind the Taurus toward the driver's side.

"Police!" Called Fin, "Open the car door slowly, hands on your head."

"I don't think he'll co-operate."

"Fine, then he's a dead man."

"He already is." Munch's flashlight shone onto the blood spattered driver's side. Shards of blood red glass littered the pavement. A 9mm Sig hung loosely in the dead man's hand.

xxx

Harm's Apartment

Washington, D.C

1030pm

Harm tossed his keys on the tray by the door and shook off his coat. He sighed happily. After dinner with Renee' they went to Benzingers for a nightcap, and it turned out to be a pleasant evening. He was starting to think seriously about the future with her, and he had to admit, it wasn't scary at all.

Picking up his guitar, he sat on the bed and started to pick an old blues tune. As he plucked away, a faint red glow got his attention. He stood up, strumming an Eric Clapton lick and pressed the button for his answering machine.

"_Harm, it's me." _Mac's voice sounded shaky. He immediately tensed. Something wasn't right. _"I..." _she swallowed,_ "I was attacked."_

"What?" the pick dropped from his fingers.

"_I'm okay, I'm at Bellevue." _ Mac said unconvincingly. There was a long pause, and he could hear her breathe sharply through her nose as if she was trying to stop crying. _"Could you... Could you come here?"_


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks so much for your continued support readers! I appreciate your comments!

Please R&R

Enjoy!

Sins of the Father 8

Golden Gate Motor Inn

Brighton Beach.

11:30pm Friday.

"_We are on the scene at a parking lot of east 16th street, where the dead body of suspected serial rapist John Aberdeen was found. Police have yet to release details as the medical examiner is still investigating the cause of death. Just a few hours ago, Police from the Special Victims Unit released a photo of this individual in an attempt to gather information on his whereabouts..." _

"No!" Veronica Aberdeen wailed, drowning out the television reporter. "No! No..." She sank to the floor in uncontrollable sobs. How could he? Her husband promised her he would be back, that he would keep her safe. He promised. A sudden hopelessness overwhelmed her. What would she do now?

A murmur got her attention and she turned away from the T.V . to her daughter, Stepha. Oblivious to the tragedy that played on the screen, Stepha yawned and stuck her tiny fist into her mouth. Veronica tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and wiped away her tears. Carefully, she reached into the crib and picked up her eight-month old, bouncing her over her shoulder. "Okay sweetie, it's okay."

As Veronica comforted her daughter, her mind processed her next steps. Her gut told her that John didn't rape those women, and he certainly didn't kill himself. There was another side to this, and she would prove it. But first she had to secure her own safety. She popped a soother in her baby's mouth. She had to leave, and leave now.

xxx

16 street parking lot.

11:45 pm.

The scene was all too familiar for Dr. Warner. The M.E's first impressions were that death was instantaneous. The bullet had been fired directly into the temple, shattering the skull and shredding the frontal cortex. Within seconds, John Aberdeen's vital systems shut down and he was no more. With her gloved fingers, she picked up the shell casing from a 9mm and examined it briefly before placing it in the plastic evidence bag. Using a cotton swab, she brushed the blood around the entry wound. A second swab picked up traces of blood from the jagged shards of glass on the passenger side window. The swabs were placed into separate, meticulously labled containers.

Warner exited the vehicle and tore off her gloves, nodding to CSU to collect the body.

The circus of media and police had subsided somewhat, leaving Detectives Munch and Fin, along with Stabler and Benson in a semicircle around her as she looked up at them. "I still have to perform an autopsy, but I'm sure it's a suicide. Single gunshot to the head," she said. She knew the how, but it was the detectives job to determine the why.

"He got scared, didn't wanna get caught." Fin stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"What about the bruise?" Olivia asked Melinda.

"Blunt force trauma to the side of the skull, matches the victim's description of the knock on the head she gave him."

"We found the branch she hit him with, there was traces of blood, it'll match with his." Elliot said with confidence. He looked to Munch, "Anything on the gun?"

"An unregistered 9mm Sig," Munch replied, "Typically used as the side arm of choice by a number of armed forces. Serial number was sanded off. There's no way to trace it."

"Not that it matters," Elliot finished scribbling the details in his notebook, a cold glint in his eye. "Our perp is dead."

xxx

Olivia walked away from the crime scene and stepped into the squad car. It was almost too much. Elizabeth's attempted suicide and eventual murder, Mac's assault, and now the perp was dead. She looked over at the evidence bag that sat on the passenger seat. They had recovered Mac's heels from the gravel road, and the dogs tracked the few hundred yards that Mac had run to escape her attacker. There was no trace of her shirt or jacket however, and the detectives had concluded that it had been dumped by the perp before he got to the parking lot. Her thoughts wondered off for a few moments, entraced by the flashing lights of the marked cars. She felt like she was in a dream and she desperately wanted to wake up.

"Hey. Hey, Liv." Elliot snapped his fingers in front of her.

"Yeah." She shook her head and took a deep breath.

"You with us? Maybe I should drive."

"No, I'm good. Where's your car?"

"Munch needs it, he's gonna be awhile." Elliot's clicked his seatbelt in place.

"Oh." Secretly, she wanted to brood alone, but there was no way out of this. She started the ignition and flicked the headlights on, pulling out of the parking lot.

"You alright?" asked Elliot, as he peered out the passenger window.

"Fine. "

"A victim you got close to is dead, your half sister was victimized, and the perp kills himself. You're not fine."

"What?" Olivia turned sharply to face her partner, "You don't think I can handle it?"

"That's not what I said."

"Then what are you saying El?"

"I know you Olivia, this isn't going to rest. You gotta stop blaming yourself for things that are beyond your control. "

Her grip tightened unconciously around the steering wheel. It was a long time before she spoke. "I can't. Not yet." She stopped the car at a red light before turning left onto a one-way. "I did this."

"No, you didn't," Elliot said shaking his head, "John Aberdeen was a depraved man, what he did was unthinkable. There's no way you could have stopped him from attacking Mac."

"I could have talked to Angela again, gotten an arrest warrant. We should've been on this guy earlier."

"Liv. There's nothing you or I could have done."

His words sunk in, and Olivia tried to find solace in them, but it was an uphill battle. Elliot was right, but she couldn't admit it. When she closed her eyes, she saw Mac's bruised face, Elizabeth's twisted body. "There's just no justice. He chose his fate. Angela? Mac? Elizabeth? There's no justice for them. Aberdeen will never be convicted for his crimes."

"No trial, no judge, no verdict." Elliot summarized.

"Exactly."

"But think about it, Liv. What would have happened if he was still alive? Hostages? A high speed chase? More victims? This guy was a perfectionist. There's no way he would allow himself to get caught."

Elliot's words were true, but Olivia still wanted to know _why._ What drove a man like Aberdeen to rape and brutalize these women? Part of the satisfaction of the job was knowing _why._ If Aberdeen was still alive, she could ask him. But she would never know the truth, and that's what haunted her.

They had arrived at the precinct. She backed the car into their designated space and pulled the parking brake. Olivia undid her seatbelt, leaned back in her seat, and gave her partner a sideways glance. "I'm fine, Elliot."

"Ok." He said simply. "C'mon, Captain wants us to finish up the paperwork for the morning."

xxx

Richardson Residence

Manhattan

1:00 AM

She banged on his door. He was the only one who could help. He was the only one who knew anything about the case that she was close to. Nobody else would believe her.

There was no answer, she kept banging. He was home. Finally she heard a shuffling and grumbling from the reporter. "I'm coming."

The door opened a crack and Jimmy squinted at her.

"What- what're you doing here?"

"I need your help. Please."

He stepped back and opened the door, allowing the slight dark haired woman in. "What the hell are you doing Ronnie?"

"Jimmy, he didn't do it."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Look, you knew him in college. John wouldn't do this." Veronica Aberdeen paced the apartment, oblivious to the bottle of liquor and beer bottles that stood out of place in his rather neat apartment.

"It doesn't matter, DNA will prove he raped those women! That Marine woman positively identified him. How could he be innocent? Ronnie, you're hormonal, you need to calm down."

"Please just listen Jimmy, he didn't do it."

"You're in denial!" Jimmy poured himself a glass of water. "You can't admit that your husband was a serial rapist! Look, I had a run in with the cops and I protected you because I thought I could get a better story, but this? No way." He guzzled the water down and laid the glass heavily on the counter.

"He didn't do it. I can prove it, but I need your help. Jimmy, we were friends once, won't you help me?" she pleaded, her blue eyes searching his.

James looked away. "Ronnie, we were more than just friends, but then you had to go and marry _him_. You had to marry that son of a bitch and look what he's done to you. He conned you Ronnie. Just like he conned me into believing he loved you. He's dead, and he's still got you in the palm of his hand."

"I'm sorry you feel that way Jimmy," Veronica said sadly, reaching into her purse. She couldn't bear the thought that John could do this, That he would hurt anyone like that... "But I'm not sorry I brought this," she pulled out a small revolver.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" James threw his hands in the air.

"I'm not going to let my little girl grow up learning that her father was a rapist, I know he didn't do it and I'll find proof."

"Alright, fine, what do you need?"

"Where's your stash?"

"My stash?"

"Don't play with me. The safe. Where is it?" She remembered the night she stayed over at his place before he left for the Navy. She saw him open a safe to get a credit card so they could order pizza.

"Oh, that. It's in the desk."

She walked to his desk and opened a drawer. "What's the code?"

"Six-nine-seven-three," he repeated, his eye still on the gun Veronica held nervously in her hand. "Think about this. Think about what you're doing."

Veronica counted out the bills, he had about two grand in there. She stacked them on the desk with the credit cards. "I've thought about it. Believe me." Veronica said as she piled the bills into her purse. "Car keys?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and tossed the keys on the desk.

Veronica scooped them up and walked toward him, still holding the revolver. "I thought about this too." James stared down the barrel of the 38 caliber revolver, inches from his face. Lowering the gun, she pulled his head towards her.

Her sweet lips pressed into his and she tasted the scotch on his lips. Veronica was a woman who was absolutely sure of herself. she would find the truth."Will you answer when I call you?"

"Yeah."

xxx

New York City District Attorney's Office

1:00 AM

Alex Cabot sighed and stood up, wrapping her cashmere scarf around her. She reached across the desk and adjusted the picture of her mother, reflecting on a fleeting memory that failed to catch in her mind. Having just heard the cause of death of that bastard Aberdeen, it was time to go home.

She turned out the light in the office and locked the door. Flicking her high collar up, she braced for the cold snap of air in the parking lot. Her long easy strides took her to her car and she felt in her pocket for her keys. A sudden uneasiness caused her to turn around.

"George! What are you doing here?"

The FBI profiler and resident psychiatrist raised his hands slightly. "Sorry Alex. I didn't mean to scare you. "

"It's okay." She breathed a sigh of relief. "What are you doing here?" Alex was a little irritable. She couldn't help it, she was tired.

"I was doing a little reading, and I need you to track down a case file for me. Terrence Mclean. 1987."

"Why?"

"Something about Aberdeen's MO is bothering me. At first I thought that the reason he took the victim's clothes was to deprive the police of evidence. But then I remembered an article in a Psychology Journal where this happened before, Terrence Mclean did the same thing. I just need to compare notes."

"In case you haven't noticed George, John Aberdeen is dead." Alex said flatly.

"I know, but it's a unique case," George shook his head. "It's been keeping me up. If anything, it will shed some light on why he did it."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

"I appreciate it." George started to walk away.

"George," Alex called over her shoulder. He turned around. "Next time just send me an email, or else one of us will end up in the hospital."

xxx

Saturday Morning

Bellevue hospital.

"_After a thorough examination of the evidence, we have concluded that John Fredrick Aberdeen committed suicide after being a suspect in the investigation of the rape of two women, one of which also committed suicide last night. It is believed that Aberdeen attempted to rape a third victim, but underestimated her previous training as a marine officer. Upon realizing his failure, he shot himself in the head with an unregistered handgun."_

Mac clicked the television off, unable to listen anymore. It was only 0630. Even with the painkillers she was on, she had still slept fitfully. Harm had called the hospital and left a message, he would be here soon. A tingle of anxiety crept up on her. What would she tell him? How would he react? But if she couldn't talk to Harm, who could she talk to?Her inner battle was interrupted by a light tap on the door. She looked over to see Olivia in the doorway.

"Hey." the detective said, taking a few steps in.

"Hi."

"I uh, pulled some strings and released your items from evidence." She placed Mac's briefcase and carry-on bag on an empty chair. "Found your shoes too."

"Thanks." Mac was suddenly grateful. Now she would have something to take her mind off the trauma that replayed in her mind.

"I just want you to know..."

"...he's dead." Mac finished the sentence.

"Yeah." Olivia walked closer to the bed.

Mac sighed. "I don't know how I should feel about that." When she had identified Aberdeen in a photo spread, she felt a measure of relief in knowing that the police would soon arrest him and put him behind bars. But his suicide left her feeling... empty. She wanted to face her attacker head on, hear the jury say 'guilty'. But that would never come to pass. Still, she wouldn't have to tell her story over and over again.

"Just be glad that he's not out there hurting other people." Olivia said.

"I am." Mac twisted the bedsheets in her hands. "I just can't get him out of my head. He called me Mac..."

Olivia reached down and touched Mac's hand. "It's okay, he's dead, he can't hurt you anymore."

"Have you slept?" Mac asked, noticing Olivia's pale face and puffy eyes.

She half smiled "It's alright, I'm gonna take a taxi."

"You better. Lack of sleep causes just as many accidents as drunk driving."

Olivia nodded, and turned around to leave.

A sudden thought occured to Mac. "Olivia?"

"Yeah."

"You wouldn't have any cover-up would you?"

"No, but there's some in your bag". Olivia rummaged through Mac's carry on bag and pulled out her make-up kit. "Here."

"Thanks." Mac struggled to sit up.

"No, stay there." Olivia walked around the bed and eased herself onto the mattress. She opened the make-up kit and dabbed the brush into the powder. With light strokes, she covered Mac's purplish bruise, carefully avoiding the small cut on her forehead.

Mac felt awkward, but could not stop the slow build up of tears as the ramifications of what happened in the last eleven hours sunk in. "I just... I don't know what to tell him."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Sorry for the long wait... I hate middles. Thank you Readers for your comments, they are very encouraging.

This chapter picks up four days after the events in the last chapter. It is now Wednesday.

Enjoy!

Sins of the Father 9

SVU Squadroom

Wednesday

4pm

Her ceramic mug was cold to the touch. Picking it up, Olivia chugged back the remnants of the coffee and grimaced. "Did Munch make coffee again?" she called out across the room.

Lifting up his own mug Munch replied in mockery, "My dear, you know I would never resort to such cruelty. If you recall the last time I made a pot of that delectable brew, the squad resorted to throwing the coffee maker out the window. We didn't get a new one for a month and a half."

"Yeah. And guess who had to make the coffee runs while 1PP coughed up enough dough for a new one?" remarked Fin, glowering at his partner.

Munch turned in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Now, now, Watson, don't you see the big picture?" Contributing to free enterprise? Passing on the American dream to cute black clad barristas who can rap coffee orders faster then Eminem can rap the rhyming dictionary?"

"Well, the American dream ain't worth shit, Sherlock, if those barrista's don't know what you mean when you say, 'coffee, black.'"

"Cragen made the coffee." Elliot said as he strode in between the desks, a can of Coke in his hands. He cracked it open and sat down. "Olivia, I thought Cragen sent you home. I'll take care of the paperwork."

"I can't," she mumbled.

Elliot squinted at her. "You can't. Liv, you haven't slept in over twenty-four hours. Those circles under eyes a new make-up fad? We caught the guy. Go home."

Her hand felt the heat of her forehead. "It's that damn letter. I go home and it's there on my coffee table- "

"You mean this letter?" Elliot held up a folded piece of paper.

"Where'd you get that?"

"You left it on your desk this morning."

"What?" She didn't, did she? She rewinded back to early this morning when the call came in. God, she did take it with her. Stuck it in her jacket pocket, and later left it on her desk when they got a lead. The briefest glimmer of surprise on her face was quickly replaced with an annoyed look.

"I didn't read it." Elliot raised his hands in surrender. "Honest."

Olivia sighed, "Go ahead, I could use a different perspective." Reading it a thousand times only frustrated her. Nothing. It led her nowhere closer to the truth. Maybe Elliot could shed some light on things.

He unfolded it and read the faded ink:

_My Dear Serena,_ _Did you get the letters I sent you? I haven't heard from you since I met you at the University. In six weeks I'll be home. I was sort of thinking I could see you again. My buddy Bruce said I could stay with him while I set up shop in New York City. I'm too old to be a soldier. I really want to settle down, have a family. Can't wait for my discharge papers. _

_I hope to see you soon. This shit-hole of a place really takes a lot out of a person. It's a pointless war for a lost cause. So much death, so much sickness. So much mud and rain and blood. I need to see you. When I remember your smile, I forget everything bad that I've done, that's been done to me. I need to see you._

_In six weeks I'll be on a train to New York City. I'll come visit you. I can't wait._

_If Nam doesn't kill me,_

_Not being with you will._

_Joe_

"What's your take?" asked Olivia The coffee mug cradled in her hands, although empty, somehow reasurred her.

"Man's lonely, obsessed." Her partner pointed out. "'I hope to see you, I need to see you," he listed, "if Nam doesn't kill me, not being with you will... I can see why this would keep you up at night."

Olivia nodded, agreeing with his observations. "You've been in combat, El. Does war do that? Drive men to obsession? Longing for a girl they just met, hardly know?"

Elliot leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on the desk. "I always had Kathy... but some of the guys..." A shudder traveled through him. "If they didn't have anyone to care about them, they were always a little unbalanced, took more risks, got in more trouble, caused more grief for everyone else. Ships without anchors, just going with the wind."

"So, did they hook up only to go their seperate ways after an argument?" Olivia pondered, "or did my mother reject his advances, causing him to rape her in a jealous rage?" There was a clip in her words as her voice caught. The possibilities had run through her head so many times last night. Did her mother lie? If so, why? Or was it as she believed all her life, that her father was a rapist? The anger simmered in her, lava rising slowly to the surface...

"Olivia. Get some sleep."

"Huh?" She looked up. God, she was tired. And moody. Definitely moody "Yeah. I'm gonna head to the crib." She lumbered over to the familiar bunks, swearing Cragen made decaf.

Elliot stared at the letter again and an idea caught in his head. Something Olivia had missed. Nailing this lead would be helpful in finding the truth. For her. "Guys, I'm gonna get some real coffee." He stood up and casually reached for the keys to the sedan. Olivia's apartment keys were right there on the desk. Snatching them before he could think twice, he tucked them in his pocket and strode out of the squadroom. He would be back before anyone knew it.

xxx

D.A's Office.

5:30 pm

"You've got to be kidding." Alex paced the floor, listening to the whiny voice on the other end of the line. "Yes, I remember the 07 floods, who doesn't? They jammed up the entire subway system... Of course... just my luck they flood the hall of archives and soak up the only hard copy file we have of Terrance Mclean's trial." More yammering and Alex rolled her eyes impatiently. "Fine, can you fax me his record and prison papers? I at least want to be able to find him... Thank you. Bye."

"Argh!" Alex set the phone down. Never before had she gone through such beaurocratic red tape to get such a disappointing result. She had attempted to find the actual transcript of the trial, as George thought there would be insight in Terrance's answers to the prosecution that would lead to the motive of their recent serial rapist. Unfortunately, since the case was over twenty years old, it had been relegated to collect dust in the city's archive. The same archive which had a crack in the foundation, causing water to flood enough of the room to wash the ink off the transcript. Alex picked up the phone and dialed George Huang, this wasn't good news.

xxx

"Wait long?" Huang's soft voice caught her by surprise. Alex had agreed to meet George at a cafe nearby. She met his gaze, offered an oblique smile and took a sip of her latte. "No, actually, I just got here."

George swung his felt jacket over the chair and sat down, putting his briefcase to the side. "The entire transcript was lost?"

She crossed her legs "Apparently." She let her voice drip with cynicism. "All I got were his prison papers, the original case file that they used to indict him and his criminal record. I haven't even looked at them yet." She reached in her briefcase for the folders.

"That means I'll have to interview him myself." George touched a finger to his chin in thought.

"Is that wise?" Alex asked, squaring the folders together she clasped her hands on top. The resident SVU psychiatrist had often faced rapists and murderers, and although he gained valuable insights into their behavior, George was sometimes on the recieving end of their violence.

"It's what I do."

"Well, before we jump the gun, let's see what we have here." Alex opened the prison record and skimmed the first few paragraphs, looking for information on his behavior. The first few sentences of the last paragraph spelled it out for her. "We have a problem," she said to George.

"What?"

"He's been released."

xxx

Westchester County

630 pm

Veronica Aberdeen stopped Jimmy's Camaro outside a large elaborate house. A slowly sinking sun cast long shadows along the paved driveway framed with maple, oak and spruce trees which grew protectively around the property. It had been so long since she had been here. She drew a breath and closed her eyes before opening the gate. Memories surfaced: Walking barefoot with John through the wet grass; swinging on the tire swing that had since rotted away; staying up to stare at the stars. John invited her over one day while his mother was away, and they made awkward teenage love. It was the first time for both of them, and hardly satisfying, but they way he treated her, so cautious and gentle, the thought of him raping anyone... made her sick. She knew John was incapable of that kind of violence. But she also knew behind his sea green eyes, he held a deep secret. She was here to find out what it was.

Standing at the doorstep, she fumbled in her pocket for the key. The house was empty, in fact it had not been lived in for two years. John's mother had left it to them when she passed and they planned to sell it, but John wanted to renovate it first. He still hadn't gotten around to it. They had their wedding here, and John's mother had been a pleasant host. Veronica held back salty warm tears. She opened the door and walked inside.

Her steps echoed on the hardwood floor. She walked through the drawing room and into the dining room. The house was well over a hundred years old. It felt... haunted. An odd sound, a _thump-thump,_ gave her pause. She stopped in mid step, listening. But it was only the beating of her own heart. Veronica took a breath and walked further inside. It felt creepy being here. Especially without her husband. Going past the kitchen she came to a hallway, the door to the basement was right in front of her. Everything her Mother in law owned was stored down there. Maybe she would find something... Veronica reached for the brass doorknob, the cool metal chilling her fingertips. She turned it and growled in frustration. It was locked.

xxx

The Crib

SVU squadroom

7:30pm

The click of a doorknob roused Olivia from a restless sleep. She opened one eye and peered at the crack of light that came through the crib.

"Just me." Cragen said. "What are you doing here? I thought I sent you home."

"You did, but I'll sleep better here." She closed her eyes and threw her arm over her head. She didn't want to explain her recent insomnia.

"Olivia, is something going on that I should know about?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she murmured.

"Funny, that's the last thing I said before I pulled a gun on a cabbie." Cragen closed the door and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Captain, I'm okay."

"Fine, I'll just write you up and send you to Huang." He spun around, his leather shoes making a faint squeak on the linoleum.

_Is he serious?_ Olivia peeked out from under her arm. Cragen's expression was stern and his gaze unrelenting. She caved. " I...found my father."

Cragen stopped at the door. He shot Olivia a look before leaving the crib. Olivia sat up and sighed in frustration. The last thing she needed was to be off the job now. Was her personal search for her father interfering with her ability to work? She didn't think so, but Cragen might have other ideas.

He returned with a bottle of brandy and a shot glass in his hand. Olivia looked at him in surprise. Her boss was a recovering alcoholic, so she knew the drink wasn't for him. He turned on the light and barred the door closed with a chair. "And?" he asked, handing her the glass. He sat down across from Olivia.

"I hated him for so long." she said, watching him pour a couple ounces of the potent drink into the heavy tumbler. "Now he's dead."

"What would you do if he was alive?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. I hated him... I'm still angry. But.."

"But?"

The brandy tempted her, Olivia swirled it, wondering what to do with it. Was it a test? "He was in love with my mother." Bitterness creeped into her tone. "Obsessed. He thought about her the entire time he was in Vietnam, wrote her letters. He told her that her smile erased his past."

"So did your mother lie about her rape?"

She shook her head. It still didn't make sense. People just didn't do that, lie about it. Rape was too humiliating. "No. I still think he raped her. She sent his last letter back, didn't even read it."

"So if he couldn't have her, no one could."

"Yeah," she whispered.

"You still feel angry?"

"I wanted justice. I wanted him to know what my mother went through... " The lava in her heart slowly rose to the surface and Olivia tipped the glass back and felt the alcohol sear her throat. "Now I don't know what to do with that feeling. Just like Aberdeen's suicide. There's no penalty." The injustice of it all made her voice shake with fury.

"Let me tell you something," Cragen poured another shot. "When a perp is convicted of a crime, he can put a price on his guilt. 10 years, 25 years, life, death. Everyone knows what he did. Eventually they accept it and move on. But a man who hasn't been caught... relives it every moment of his waking life. It gnaws at him, makes him uneasy. He's always looking over his shoulder, always fighting his past. He can't trust anyone."

"But all that 'guilt' has to go somewhere." Olivia stood up and started pacing, "He was an alcoholic, abusive to his wife, he made life hell for his daughter... _They_ paid for his sins."

Cragen nodded, "That's the unfortunate cost. Whose sins did he pay for? People don't just wake up one day and decide they're evil. Somewhere down the line your father was a victim, just like your mother. And he made a choice to continue that cycle. So what are you going to do Olivia? Have another drink?"

She stared at the liquid in her glass. "No. I'm gonna go." The brandy sloshed when she dumped it in the trash.

"Take all the time you need."

"Thanks."

xxx

Mac's apartment

Washington D.C

7:30 pm

All the lights in her home were on. Even the bathroom. Mac sighed and looked up from her case file. She was technically on convelesent leave, but work was the only thing that kept her mind off of... She shook her head. What time was it? Since her attack, her internal clock had seemingly stopped working. It jarred her, not knowing how much time she spent doing this or that. Her watch read 7:34 pm which meant she worked two and a half hours going over details of an officer misconduct charge and formulating an argument for the defense. Mac closed the file. She would be ready for Singer on Monday.

Something nagged at her, however. What was it? Of course, her report for the Admiral. It was on her laptop, which was in the corvette. Mac inhaled. She had avoided her car since Harm had driven her home Saturday night. But she knew she had to overcome this fear. Mac grabbed her keys and left her apartment.

She took the stairs to the parking lot and walked over to her car. Her Corvette. It had been the first brand new car that she had ever purchased. She paid for it in cash. Her present to herself after making Major...

"_Good work on that sexual assault case, Captain. You sure know how to press the right buttons."_

"_Thank you sir, but the Lieutenant was asking for it."_

"_That he was, maybe he'll keep his mouth shut in Leavenworth." He walked behind his desk and opened a drawer."Anyway, Captain, the promotion board has decided to honor my reccomendation."_

"_Sir?"_

_He walked up to her, inches from her face, and unpinned the Captain's bars on her lapel, replacing them with the brass oak leaf that designated her as Major. Mac squared her shoulders, looked straight ahead, and tried not to grin like a giddy child given a candy bar. "Congratulations, Major Mackenzie. Semper Fi."_

"_Semper Fi!" she saluted, and he saluted back. He gave her a long, approving gaze. _

"_Now, I have an assignment for you, a big one. A double homicide at the Florida air base...."_

It was hard to believe that she was now afraid of it. "Come on, it's not even blue, it's not even a Ford! Nothing bad is going to happen." Her trembling fingers caused the keys to jingle. Thank God for power locks. After she opened the driver's side door she turned in a slow circle to make sure no one was around. Satisfied, Mac reached behind the seat for her laptop bag. She hefted it over her shoulder and sighed with relief. It was okay, she was okay.

Back inside, Mac turned on her computer. As she waited for it to boot up, the shrill sound of her phone startled her. She rolled her eyes when she saw who it was, she should have known.

"Mac." Harm said on the other line. Harm had called her the same time yesterday and the day before. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Fine." Mac paced her living room. Her ribs still ached, although the bruise on her forehead had faded somewhat. She still hadn't told Harm what really happened. On the way home, she made up something about a carjacking gone wrong. He suspected something else happened, but Mac remained tight lipped. She was a Marine. No way was she going to let her guard down. Even to Harm. "How's the case?" Mac felt a little relieved to know that Turner was back. The rape case she was supposed to prosecute had been handed back to him, Rabb and Turner had been at it for three days now. She was grateful she didn't have to carry that load.

"I managed to lower the charges to fraternization but not rape. The members gave him a dismissal out of the Navy, and mandatory counseling, for him and the young ensign he had sex with."

"In other words, you pulled an Ace out of your ass with typical Rabb charm."

"Pretty much." There was a long pause, and she dreaded what he was going to say next. "Mac," he said, his voice softer, "your attack wasn't just a random carjacking. What really happened?"

"Nothing." Mac hit the end button and her cordless dropped on the couch. 'He'was there, his heartless eyes staring into her, penetrating her... _'Look at me Mac. My face is the last thing you're going to see before you die.' _

It all rushed through her mind, the memories of her attack. The new car smell of her rental, the crunch of gravel, wet grass... and him, in her face, tearing her clothes. Mac gagged. The dry heaves sucked the strength out of her and she suddenly felt very hot. Her ribs hurt. Her ribs... She was there on the ground and he was kicking her. "No," she started to sob but composed herself. After she caught her breath she stood up and limped to the bathroom. Trembling, she ran the water for a few seconds and splashed some on her face. Her reflection in the mirror was pale and thin, "No," her voice was weak and she became aware of her own fear. "No!" Mac's fist shot up and cracked the glass. In the mirror, she saw him sneering at her, his wretched face cracked in half. "Look at me _Mac-_"

"No, no, no!" Mac shouted. _You have no control over me! I beat you, I got away! You're dead!_ She swung and smashed his face in pieces. What was left of the mirror stared back at her and Mac saw herself in shock.

Her knuckles were bleeding. She doused them with antiseptic and bandaged them. "Get over it, Marine," Mac muttered. Turbulant emotions rose to the surface, she felt so out of control. She had to do something. Gulping down a glass of water, her gaze settled on her desk. Right. She would finish her report. As she neared her laptop, Mac screamed when she saw the message playing on her screensaver:

**I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD I'M NOT DEAD. . .**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Thanks again for your reviews and comments... There will definitely be more Mac and Olivia in the next chapter, just had to build tension and resolve things for some characters. This is only the begining of the end...

Picks up right where we left off...

Please R&R

Enjoy!

Sins of the Father

Mac's apartment

Washington D.C

8:30pm

"This is a sick joke." Mac said aloud as she stared at the computer. Someone had set this up. If she ever found out who, she would sue them for emotional damages. Mac sat down at the computer and adjusted the screensaver settings. Satisfied, she finished her report and e-mailed it to the admiral, but she couldn't get rid of a nagging sense of unease. Was he really dead?

Her fingers drummed on the desk with impatience. John Aberdeen was dead, right? Olivia had shown her a picture, Mac had identified him, the report had confirmed it. The bastard was just sadistic, he had access to her phone and laptop, it wouldn't be hard to figure out how to program her screensaver. So, before he shot himself, he wanted to make sure he won. The pyschology was simple, wasn't it?

Still, Mac needed proof that he was dead. Unfortunately, proof was 300 miles away.

A knock sounded at her door. Mac checked the peephole. If it was Harm, she would tell him to go away. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw who it was. "Harriet, what are you doing here?" She opened the door and gestured for her to come in.

"Well you know how it is," Harriet said cheerfully. The prim Lieutenant took a few steps in, and Mac closed the door behind her. "Bud wanted to watch Star Trek the Wrath of Khan, and the only place that rents it is three blocks from your apartment. Since I was in the neighborhood I thought I'd check in on you, see if you needed anything." She sighed and looked around, as if she wanted to find a task that she could do.

Mac raised an eyebrow. This was a pleasant but unexpected surprise. Harriet often found little ways to take care of her coworkers, and Mac was thankful that she was here. But she was also a really bad liar. "Harriet, the only video store near my apartment is an 'adult' video store."

Harriet's fair skin turned red, "Well, we were feeling a little frisky,-"

"Save it lieutenant. Harm sent you," Mac said. The walls started to come up again. Why did Harm have to do this? It infuriated her to no end. What happened, was none of his business. What good would talking about it do? So he could see her vulnerable? She could hardly process it in her own mind, much less confess it to a man she, well... loved. Mac could feel the blood boiling under her skin... He would feel sorry for her, and the tension between her and him and Renee' would escalate. She didn't want him to rescue her. "He called here three times in an hour," she said, trying to keep her tone even. "I just didn't want to talk to him."

"Maybe if you told him what was going on? How you're feeling?" Harriet asked timidly.

"Nothing is going on and I'm feeling fine thank you."

The petite blonde reached for Mac's arm. "Let's just sit down for a minute." Somehow, Harriet's mothering got the best of her and Mac obliged, easing slowly onto the couch. She avoided eye contact, instead twisting the ring on her finger. It seemed looser than before, and Mac realised that she hadn't eaten a full meal since her attack.

"Did the man- the carjacker, did he..." Harriet swallowed, "Were you sexually assaulted?"

It was inevitable that she would ask that. But Harriet was a trustworthy friend, and Mac knew that someone had to know the truth. She kneaded the palm of her bandaged hand with her thumb. "He... um, he tried to rape me." Mac took a breath, "But I got away."

"Okay." Harriet said, "Okay, see now, you said it. Wasn't that a relief?"

"You don't get it," her ribs ached, reliving the event. "This never should have happened, I let my guard down and my emotions got the best of me." Her voice shivered with her own anger. "I barely escaped with my life, and now I'm scared to even go to my car. I hate the rain, I hate the park. God, the smell of wet grass makes me sick to my stomach."

"So what?" Harriet said abruptly.

"Excuse me?"

Harriet stood up, her short frame towering over Mac, who looked up at her previously mild mannered friend in surprise. "So what? You're just going to sit here all day and wallow in self pity? Blame yourself for everything? Push people away? Harm didn't _send_ me here, I _offered_, because he's been worried sick about you and wanted to make sure you didn't do something stupid."

"Harriet, I would never-"

"I'm not done. Some degenerate tried to rape you and what did you do? You fought back. I bet you even kicked him in the you-know-where! Darn it, Mac, you're a Marine, not a victim. After everything you've been through, you're scared of wet grass?"

Mac cringed. She had forgotten that underneath Lieutenant Sims soft demeanor was a woman of iron.

"What about the rest of us?" Harriet continued, pacing, she waved her arms to prove her point. "Harm crashes a Tomcat in the middle of the Atlantic and manages to survive... You think he'll ever get up there again? Heck yes! My baby is stillborn, does that make me forfeit having children? Never. I couldn't imagine life without little AJ.... "

"Harriet." Thoroughly chastised, Mac started to feel the heat flush in her cheeks.

"Mac," Harriet ignored her, "After all you've been through, if you don't even have faith in yourself or your friends to handle whatever life throws at us, you may as well resign your commission, forfiet your bar association and go live in the desert."

Mac stared at her friend in admiration and shock, each point of her argument nailed into Mac's heart. "Wow, I didn't know you had it in you."

"Me niether," she whispered. "I'm going sit down now," she gripped the arm of a chair and lowered herself in.

"I should call the admiral, reccomend you for law school."

"I think I'll pass."

The sudden quiet was awkward between them, but Mac already absorbed what Harriet said, and she knew what she had to do. "Actually, there is something you can do for me." She outlined her plan to Harriet, who gladly picked up the phone to make arrangements.

xxx

Rikers Peniteniary.

8:30 pm

Olivia's footsteps echoed in the long hallway at Rikers Penitentiary. But her steady steps could not keep up with her racing heartbeat. She had arranged to see her 'Uncle' again. She wondered what he would think in finding out she was a cop. Something about what he said weeks before got Olivia thinking. _"Joe and our father had connection that I could never share."_ Had Joe Mackenzie been molested as a child? She had to find out.

The cell door opened, and Olivia faced Bill mackenzie. He seemed mildly surprised to see her, but remained in his seat. "I knew you were a cop."

"That doesn't change anything."

He shrugged. "How is Sarah?"

Olivia pursed her lips. "She's... fine."

"That's good. Heard it was pretty wet in D.C."

"I'm not here to talk small talk, so let's cut the crap." She crossed over to him and leaned over the table. "You said your father shared a 'connection' with Joe. Care to explain?"

Bill's amiable expression turned to stone. "What are you getting at?"

Olivia knew he was hiding something. She pushed on, "You know what I'm talking about. What did he do to Joe? What was he going to do to you?"

"Lady, I don't know what you're saying." He crossed his arms, resisting her attack.

"You don't know." Olivia circled Bill, "You didn't hear your brother's protests when your father molested him in another room... you didn't notice bruises in odd places, didn't see your mother's look of disgust at her own husband, or the way he caressed Joe at the dinner table." She stopped in front of him, "You can't tell me you don't know."

He shot up out of his chair and marched to the cell door, clinging to the bars. "Guard! I want out of here!"

"I told them to hold off, you're not going anywhere. Now tell me," she had to know, hear it from his own lips. Was violence and pedophilia in her DNA?

"Guard!" Bill said again, he pressed his face against the cell door. When there was no response, he looked back at the detective, "There's nothing to tell, you already know."

"I want to hear it from you."

"Why? You insult me, you insult him, by bringing this garbage up-" Bill edged out of the corner he was in.

"He raped her!" Olivia snarled. Every muscle was tense, every sense heightened. She took a step closer to him, searching. "He raped my mother! Threw her down on the ground and raped her!" Her hands trembled, her heart pounded. She struggled to get a grip on the emotions that rumbled to the surface.

"So now you wanna blame _my _father, say it was his fault, say if it hadn't happened, maybe your momma wouldn't have been raped. Is that it? Well let me tell ya something lady," Bill jabbed a finger at her. "Nobody ever hurt me, and look where I am. It's in us, in all of us," he pointed to himself. "Evil. Darkness. I see it in you too. It's a poison."

Olivia could only stare at him, unable to process the thoughts and emotions in her head into words. She turned her back to him. He had her figured, but she still had to know the truth. "Was Joe...?"

"Was he molested?" Bill sighed, "What good would it do if I told you?"

"Maybe... maybe I can forgive him." It was the first time she had spoken to the possibility.

"Bullshit. You want to know if you're gonna pass it on, the violence."

He was right about that. How far back did this go? Would she continue the cycle? It was a fear that she had buried deep inside herself since she had learned of her mother's rape, and a fear that manifested itself in all her relationships.

He pulled the chair out and sat down. "Musta been hard learning how you were created. I wonder how you found out. You look it up in the police files or did your mother tell you in a drunken rage?"

"That's none of your business." Bill was pressing too many buttons, pushing her thoughts and emotions to where he wanted them to go. Fortunately she came prepared. "You're dying," she said, You've got nothing to lose. Tell me what really happened."

"I might be dying of cancer lady, but I've got nothing to gain in this hellhole."

"Really? That's too bad. Your whole life you were abandoned, your dad didn't care about you, your brother left you... You try to live the straight and narrow but get cheated by your friends, now you're dying, and it's going to be a miserable death. Alone in a hospital bed surrounded by prison guards."

"Do you have something to offer?" He asked, leaning forward.

"I've already spoken to the D.A. Based on your medical condition and your good behavior, he's willing to give you a conditional release." Olivia reached into her side pocket for a brochure. "A hospice, on Long Island. Right by the beach."

Bill glanced at the brochure, he clenched his fist into a tight ball. "I was seven. Joe was ten. It was past our bedtime, but we were still awake when dad walked in. I pretended to be asleep, even faked a snore. But I could still hear what was going on." He spat on the floor. "Bastard forced my brother to have oral sex."

Olivia sagged against the cell bars. "Thank you,"she said. But she wasn't relieved.

There it was, the truth bare in front of her. Her father, a rapist, her grandfather, a pedophile. She carried in her DNA the propensity for sexual violence. Would her children inherit that from her? "Guard!" she called.

"It ended." Bill said quietly, "The generational curse. It ended with you and Sarah."

xxx

Harm's Apartment

Georgetown

9:30pm

Harm stared at the phone. Should he call her again? Mac had a tendency of holding things in until they reached a boiling point, and Harm wondered what really happened in New York. He had his suspisions, but kept them to himself.

"Honey, is everything okay?" Renee called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, just a little worried about Mac." Harm walked down from his bedroom.

"I'm sure she's fine." Renee said. She sidled up to him at the table. "Here, taste this-" An explosion of rich and creamy chocolate combined with the sweetness of strawberry erupted in his mouth,

"Mmm,"

"Isn't it heaven?"

"Yes, it's very good." Renee snuggled close to him, but Harm subconsciously pulled away. He couldn't stop thinking of Mac...

_The door to the hospital room was open, and Harm peeked in. He saw Mac lying in the bed, propped up with pillows. Her face was turned away from him, but he knew she was awake. He took a few cautious steps in. "Hey." He offered her his flyboy smile. "I made it," he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze._

"_I'm glad you're here," Mac said, but Harm saw a fearful look in her eyes. Her hands went limp in his, and he let go._

_He sat down in the chair, "What happened?"_

_Mac's gaze traveled out the window and then followed the late morning sunbeam that streamed onto her bed. She folded the edge of the sheet that covered her, smoothing it over. "I don't want to talk about it."_

"_Mac-" _

"_I can't." _

"_Mac, you gotta talk to somebody..."_

"_Not you," she said with a finality that deafened him._

A rapping noise got his attention.

"I wonder who that could be?" Renee said, sauntering toward the door.

"I'll get it." Harm pushed past her, hoping it was who he thought it was. He pulled the door open and breathed a sigh of relief. Mac stood before him. She looked pale. "Hey," he said.

"Hi." Mac tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Harm noticed that the bruise had faded quite a bit since he last saw her, but she looked a lot thinner, the roundness of her face replaced with hard lines. Something in her eyes had changed as well. He wasn't sure what it was.

"Uh, come on in."

"Um, If this is a bad time..." Mac said, noticing Renee's sympathetic look. She thumbed her bandaged hand to the door.

"No, actually, Renee was just leaving." Glancing at his girlfriend, he dropped a major hint with a slight tilt of his head. Mac needed him, and he wasn't going to turn her away this time.

Fortunately Renee' got the message. "Yeah, just getting my jacket." She scooped it off the couch and then leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "See you later hon."

"Yeah." Harm said, but his eyes were on Mac.

Mac took a few steps in and slid on the couch. She didn't bother taking off her jacket or getting comfortable. Harm wondered if it was because of her ribs. Cracked ribs were a bitch. He sat perpendicular to her in his large chair, not knowing what to do or say.

"I've been pushing you away," Mac admitted. Her gaze met his for a moment and then flitted around the room, looking at the coffee table, at his guitar perched against the book shelf, at a picture of 'Sarah' the biplane he flew on his days off.

"Yeah, you have." He noticed the bandage around her knuckes. That was new, "Mac, what happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing, just a cut."

"On your knuckles?" The stiff pause between them was like a cement wall. Mac suddenly tensed, closing up, pushing him away again. Harm held his face in his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I punched a mirror."

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow. He knew Mac had a mean right hook, but punching a mirror?

"It wasn't a car jacking. He was after _me._"

Harm steeled himself for what he was going to hear. He leaned forward and touched her knee lightly. "It's okay." _You can talk to me, _he thought.

"I um, was knocked unconcious. He shoved me in the backseat of the rental-"

Unfathonable thoughts and images burned ferociously in his mind. He swallowed the gag that threatened to choke him. "Did he rape you?"

Mac shook her head and looked down at her hands. "He tried, but I came to and caught him off guard before anything happened."

Harm felt a rush of relief at her words and remembered to breathe. Mac stood up and slowly paced the room. "It keeps playing over and over in my head. If I just turned around-"

"You can't blame yourself."

Mac shook her head. "I know," she said. Her hand traced the bruise on her forehead and then rested on her chin. "I can't help thinking that I know him from somewhere. His face is so familiar. I even ran his name through the Navy and Marine database, but no luck."

"What makes you think you know him?"

A nearly imperceptible shiver passed through her. "When I was pinned on the ground, he called me Mac."

Only a few people in the office and a few friends and aquaintances knew her as Mac, but it wouldn't be hard to find out. "He was just using that to get to you. It's okay, the police will get the guy." Harm said from behind her. He rested his hand gently on her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"They don't have to. He's dead."

"What?" When did this roller coaster of drama stop? Was Mac forced to kill him? It wouldn't be the first time Mac had killed in self-defence. Harm wished he could have been there, he wished he could've convinced her to stay in D.C. But he had to swallow his own advice, he wasn't to blame.

"They found his body in my rental car a few blocks away," Mac continued. "He shot himself. Apparently I wasn't his only victim."

"Wait, didn't you just see the police before your attack? Wasn't there some kind of notice or something?"

Mac turned to face him, "Harm, you know how policework is..."

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. It still bothered him that the police were unable to catch the guy before he got to Mac. He wondered how much evidence they had against him. But that was water under the bridge now. It was time for him to be with Mac. "You don't have to do this alone," he said. "With the kind of trauma you've experienced, maybe you should see a professional."

"I know, but first I'm going back to New York. I want you to come with me."

"What?" Harm's heart skipped a beat. He would do anything for Mac, move mountains, leap over tall buildings, even eat artery clogging pepperoni pizza with extra cheese... but duty was duty

"The man who attacked me, I need to know he's dead."

"Didn't the NYPD confirm it?"

"Yes, but weird things are happening, it's complicated. Bottom line, Harm, I need you, and I want you to come with me."

"You know I would, but I have work to do."

"It's okay, Harriet cleared it with the admiral, flight leaves at 23:30"

"How did she pull that off?"

"I guess she pulled an ace out of her ass." Mac smiled.

xxx

Westchester County

New York

6:30pm

Veronica was unaware that she was being watched. She was unaware of the figure that followed her from the car to the house, or the shadow that lingered in the living room window...

He saw her enter the house and stepped carefully around to the side entrance. He knew she was going to the basement... He wasn't afraid of what she would find, in fact, she was doing him a favor. He would use her to lure them here... The cops, and of course, Major Mackenzie.

He flicked the smoldering ashes of his stunted cigarrette and took a final puff. Putting an ear to the door, he waited for the right moment. Veronica was relaying her address over the phone, presumably to a locksmith. It would make things complicated, but nothing he couldn't handle. _Now,_ he thought, and busted through.

Veronica stared at him, a deer caught in the headlights. Her cellphone clattered to the floor. "John?" she asked.


	11. Chapter 11

Sins of the Father

Chapter 11

Westchester County

6:30pm

A loud bang startled Veronica and her cell slipped between her fingers. Her head snapped in the direction of the danger. The silhouette in the doorway looked familiar, "John?" the word escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think. She covered her mouth in shame and grief.

"Ronnie?"

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you. I tracked the last couple purchases you made on my credit card, and figured this is where you were going. Why are you here?"

Veronica shrugged. "I thought I knew. John never wanted me to go in the basement, and he'd been acting so strange lately, I just wondered... you know, if maybe he was keeping secrets from me, maybe he got involved in something over his head and he didn't know how to deal with it." Thankfully, she had left Stepha with her mother. The last few days had been a hazy blur. She could hardly sleep, hardly think, hardly breathe. Paranoia dogged her. Every time she saw a man with a shock of dirty blonde hair, her heart fluttered. Whenever she saw a white truck pass her window, she ran to the door. Tears poured down her flushed cheeks. "I just don't know what to do."

"Shhh, Ronnie, there's nothing you can do, not really. You have to let it play out." Veronica felt his arms on her shoulders, steadying her.

"The basement. He's been keeping things from me. The truth is down there. If he didn't do it, there won't be anything. If he did..."

"Ronnie, you go down those steps you might never forget what you see."

"You think he did it!" Veronica spat.

"He did." Jimmy shrugged. "He did it, and then he thought about you and the baby, and getting caught, and it overwhelmed him so much that he shot himself. The evidence is all there. Bloody fingerprints and everything-"

"But why? Wasn't I good to him? " There it was, her thinly veiled irrational thought that she was responsible. Things had been stressful lately but she was good to him. Wasn't she? When he came home from work, she asked him how his day was, popped a beer open for him and told him that supper was almost ready. He liked that, didn't he? Or maybe it was something she didn't do. In bed. John never talked about or complained about their sex life, but after Stepha was born, their relationship changed and they both were a little on edge at times. "It's my fault, I should have known there was something wrong with him. Those rides he would take alone, he was so angry on friday night, didn't even come back from work. He just called me and said something came up and he would be late..."

"Ronnie," Jimmy said, and he tilted her chin so she could lose herself in the ocean depths of his eyes, "It's not... and never will be your fault." She leaned into him, soaking his jacket with her tears and bluthering. Finally Veronica's knees gave way and the two of them slid to the floor.

Jimmy's familiar embrace soothed her, and time slowed to a waltz. Veronica looked up when she heard the sound of a diesel truck. "Oh, the locksmith." There was a loud knock on the front door. She gathered herself off the dusty floor and walked through the living room to the entrance. Jimmy hung back, hands shoved in his pockets.

Veronica wiped off the tears with her sleeve, took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Hi. This way." The burly locksmith carried a tool that looked like a nail gun. He walked up to the basement door, and stuck the tool into the key hole. _Ratta tat tat_, and the door opened.

"There ya go miss, that'll be sixty five." His half smile revealed brown teeth.

"Oh, right, uh..." Veronica reached into her pockets.

"You know, that's all right," Jimmy interrupted. "You take Visa?"

"Yeah, I'll hafta go to the truck and get the machine."

"I'll come with." He gave Veronica a reassuring gaze. "Be just a sec." The two men left her alone with the open basement door and Veronica wondered if she should go down there alone.

"I have to do it, sooner or later," she mumbled. She walked down the steps to the landing and flicked the light on. What she saw caused her to once again burst into tears. "No..."

The dimly lit basement, filled with boxes and old furniture covered with sheets contained three terrifying objects. Three mannequins wearing bloody garments. Reality finally struck her. He had done it. John raped those women. The room seemed to slowly spin around her. She was oblivious to the sound of the door closing above her, or the sound of boots on the stairs. When she finally felt Jimmy's breath behind her, it was too late. Pain bucked her head, and she crumpled to the floor unconscious.

xxx

Brooklyn

730pm

The house was neater than George anticipated, the blue trim matching nicely with the fresh white paint. It seemed homey. His gloved hand pounded the door. Muffled steps were heard on the other side. "Yeah, whaddya want?" A voice replied.

George imagined someone peering at him through the peephole. "I wanted to speak to Terrance. Is he here?"

"Yer talkin' to him." The door opened a crack, just enough to see thick hairy fingers and the faint glint of a watch.

"Mr. Mclean, my name is George Huang, I'm an FBI profiler. I wanted to see if you had any insight into the recent assaults attributed to the late John Aberdeen." George craned his neck in an attempt to make eye contact. "Can I come in?"

Terrance nodded with his head for George to come inside. He was ushered into a small living room area that still needed a lived in look. Niether of them sat down. "You here to headshrink me?" Terrance started, but he wasn't ambivalent, it was a quiet acceptance of the situation. "I know your type. Gonna write an article on me, compare me to the next up and coming serial whatever. You know, I only raped once. She was the only one."

"I believe you." George said. He recalled the details of the case. The woman had been raped in a park while on her way home from a cocktail party. After the act, Terrance took her blouse. The police made a sketch and Terrance matched the description. While he was in custody they found the blouse hidden in a shoebox in his bedroom. He admitted his crime and pled guilty. "I'm not here to analyse you. A recent case has the suspect taking the victim's clothing, sometimes stripping them naked. I was wondering what you thought about that."

"You're asking me what I think?" Terrance finally sat down. George took his cue and sat across from him. A plain leather Bible sat on the coffee table between them.

"Mr. Mclean, why did you take her blouse?"

"I don't know. That's why I confessed. There's something wrong up here." He jabbed a finger at his temple. "If I didn't get myself locked up, I'd do something worse."

"What did you feel when you-"

"You know what? I'm sick of people asking me that!" Terrance launched out of the tattered recliner and stormed about the room. "I'm sick of being analysed and wrote about like I'm some kinda science monkey! Even got cons writin' me letters asking me what it _felt _like, for Christsake."

George perked up. "Cons wrote you letters?"

"While back, in jail," Terrance leaned against the wall and propped his hand against his hip, "I get this letter from a con in Leavenworth, said he was reading about me in some psychology magazine, he asked me the same shit you did."

This piqued George's interest. "Do you still have the letter?"

"Nah, I tossed it. But I'll never forget the name. Richardson. He signed it Jimmy Richardson. I asked around 'bout him. Turns out he wrote a lotta letters to a lotta cons. Like he was doing research or something."

"Thank you." George said. He let himself out. The case for Aberdeen was pretty strong, but what if Richardson was involved? The name sounded familiar and George remembered Alex mentioning it a couple times. George got into his car and pulled out his cell, he'd get Munch and Fin to run a background check on Richardson tomorrow.

xxx

Olivia's apartment.

10:00 pm

The apartment hallway smelled of roast turkey, and Olivia knew that Mrs. Funkner had cooked up a storm that evening. She had been invited over several times, but work often interfered. _One of these days..._ she thought. Exhaustion darkened the corners of her eyes, and she couldn't wait to hit the bed and sleep a dreamless sleep. Entering her apartment, she kicked her shoes off and threw her coat on the couch. Sock feet padded to the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of water. A strange sense overtook her, and she reached for her gun.

"Who's there?" Olivia called. Her hand crawled along the drywall to the hallway switch. The light chased the shadows and revealed nothing of consequence. Olivia crept along the hallway to her bedroom, gun first. Nothing. The bathroom. Empty. She relaxed, but an uneasy tension rolled in her gut. Someone had been here. She came back to the living room, and there on the TV was a large envelope.

The envelope appeared to be holding a CD or DVD. There was no address or marking on it. Olivia carefully broke the seal and peered into the envelope. Satisfied she was safe, she slid the disc out and popped it into her DVD player.

A bizzare soundless scene played in front of her. The camera seemed to be propped up in a car. Driving down the road, the car turned onto an exit marked highway 9A.

Black.

Then a large house with a camaro in the driveway came into view. The house number was 42.

Black.

Held at chest level, the camera went through the front door to show a dusty living room covered in white sheets and an empty kitchen. A door was visible on the other side of the kitchen. The cameraman opened the door.

Black.

The camera pointed down and when it came back up, Olivia saw a woman's ponytail. There was a blur and the head dropped off the screen. Dirty brown workboots filled the screen and the camera was switched off.

When it was flicked on again, it started a slow pan of a basement. Among large covered furniture and cobwebs, three mannequins wore ripped and bloody clothing. Clothing that could only be described as that of the victims of the recent serial rape case. Olivia shuddered when she saw Mac's Marine uniform shirt and jacket. The camera paused there and continued. On the floor, the woman lay unscious. Next to her was a sign.

**SHE'S NEXT.**

xxx

Manhattan

1:00 am

The anitiseptic smell of the morgue barely covered the decay it contained. Still, it wouldn't stop Mac. Thanks to a few small favors, she managed to get the ME to allow them to see the body of John Aberdeen. The man that Mac had seen in the picture that Olivia had shown her. They stepped into the clean and bright New York City morgue, where death hung like a shroud.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Harm asked.

Abosolutely. One hundred percent. Mac swallowed. Afterwords, she would be spending an hour bent over the toilet, and another hour under a hot shower.

"You got here just in time, we were just about to release the body to the deceased's father." Doctor Warner said, sliding on her gloves. She handed Mac and Harm a mask each. "It's been a few days, so..."

"Thanks," Harm said. He handed Mac the mask and the two them stood at the head of the steel gurney. Warner pulled the linen sheet, revealing what was left of the head and shoulders of John Aberdeen.

"Oh God," Mac gasped. Her insides flipped over and turned inside out. But she forced herself to look, she examined the face, the exit wound of the bullet didn't leave much on the upper left side of his head, but it was enough. The lone grey eye accused her. Mac took in the shape of his face, and her eyes lingered on his neck. Then she remembered his hands, how they felt on her. She lifted the linen and ran her fingers over his.

Her stomach twisted, acid burned her throat. Mac closed her eyes briefly and left the room, clutching the mask over her mouth.

An empty wastebasket was now filled with vestiges of pastry and coffee. Never in her life had she felt so weak. Mac wiped her lips with the mask the M.E had given her. She pulled her coat close, but it didn't provide the heat she wanted. Comforting arms wrapped around her.

"Mac," Harm said in her ear. His presence was warm and strong. "It's okay."

"No," she shook. "I scratched him on the neck, there were no scratch marks, there's no callouses, and the face, I thought for sure it would be him, but no- it's wrong."

"John Aberdeen's blood was on the branch that you hit him with, and his prints match at a different crime scene. That's pretty solid evidence. " Warner said.

"No, it's not," Mac replied. "It's not him. That man... the body, it's not the man who assaulted me."

xxx

Several Days Earlier:

16th ave parking lot.

James slammed the door on the Taurus and stalked to the truck. He jumped on the back and swung the door open. A lump in the back moved. He kicked it. "Thought you could stop me, huh? Thought you could convince that woman...what was her name? Oh, Elizabeth. Right... convince Elizabeth that you didn't do it. But all you did was scare her. So I had to clean up your mess. Feeling better?" He pulled on his gloves.

"You're shitting me." John huffed. He struggled with the cuffs. "What did we ever do to you huh? We used to be friends. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wrong? Wanna know what's wrong? Being singled out because nobody likes me. Being framed by some femminist Commander and her sexist friends. Being convicted of a crime I didn't commit. And when I'm free, I found out the girl I like is already taken!"

"What? I read the file, you molested a woman in the shower, and there was a witness."

"The witness lied. How the hell did you get my file?"

"How do you think? I broke in to your place."

"Clever. But it won't help." James jumped out of the truck and walked back to the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out the branch Mac hit him with. Luckily, he wasn't hit hard enough to break skin. Back in the truck, James hefted the branch in his right hand. John was propped up against the wall, his head and shoulders sagging against the back of the truck. With a sickening crunch, the branch snapped John's head back. James snikered as he watched a spittle of blood seep on John's forehead. He picked the branch up and wrapped it back in it's plastic bag. Then he carried John to the Taurus. He yanked the drivers side door open and propped up John in the seat. He made sure to wipe the prints in the car, and then pulled the Sig from his inside pocket. John was starting to come to. James wrapped the gun in John's hand, lifted it up , and pulled the trigger.


	12. Interlude

**Interlude.**

The cop didn't believe me, but I really was mugged in the subway. If I had known that buying a cup of coffee to cool my nerves would lead to my death, well, I would've taken the first flight outta here. But, the guy was just doing his job.

And I was just trying to help.

See, when you're in the chair, looking at a cop who's got you pegged for a rapist, what do you do? I couldn't confess to something I didn't do. And I was scared, but I watched enough cop shows to know he didn't have anything on me. So I just imagined the guy- Stabler, I think, in boxers with little hearts of them. Guess he didn't like that.

He told me what this asshole did, and I could feel the anger spitting out of me. I could never do that to my worst enemy. I'm married, I'm a father, if anyone so much as looks at them funny-

Anyway, I just want to get the story straight. For my daughter. For my wife.

I'm a contractor for a reno company. We do whatever. Bathrooms, kitchens, basements, you name it. We've got some good guys who do good work. Me, I don't do the physical stuff, I just handle the clients and the suppliers. While back I get a call from this guy Richardson, he wants some work done. Turns out I know the him from first year college. We were roommates, but I hadn't seen him since I dropped out, and he decided to join the Navy. Nice guy, a little weird sometimes.

It's been years since I seen him. I came by to drop off the bill and he asks me to stay awhile and chat. I ask him about the Navy. He shrugs, said it didn't work out. He asks me about Veronica, I tell him we just had our first baby.

"Oh." He says and ends the conversation.

I go home and in the course of dinner, I mention Richardson to Veronica.

"Jimmy?" she says, "Oh my god, I haven't seen him in years. He had such a crush on me."

"Really?" I put my fork down and chew the roast slowly.

Veronica recovers quickly. "Oh, it was nothing," her hand covers mine. "We never hit it off." She sipped her water, "One time, before you and I were steady, I was at Bo's grill with some friends and I thought I saw you in the crowd, but I didn't want to seem clingy or anything, so I pretended not to notice. Then the waitress comes by and tells me some guy from table five bought me a drink. I thought it was you, and I went over to thank you but it was Jimmy instead. You guys sorta look alike."

Stepha squawks and waves a fist. Veronica feeds her some peameal baby food. I change the subject, ask about upcoming holiday time. Veronica wants to make a trip to Jersey to see her mom soon.

The next day, I end up at an apartment to do a quick kitchen estimate at the Beyers residence. An old man answers the door. I tell him I'm here to do the quote. I start measuring and checking the plumbing, and that's when I notice the card on the counter.

A police business card. SVU, it says. Detective Olivia Benson. None of my business right? But I was just there, yesterday. I give the man a quote, and tell him I can set up for an appointment next week. He gives me her card. She works for the Sun. Call before four, he says, and closes the door without another word.

Thursday morning I'm out and about, picking up supplies and making appointments. I just dropped off a bill at the Bennett residence and head to a nearby cafe to get a coffee and do some paperwork. It's part of my routine, since my office at the shop is usually too crowded, and the phone is constantly ringing. That's when I see Richardson. I smile and nod. He gives me an impish grin. I return to my work. He sits down near me, facing the door, and reads a paper.

I don't stay too long, still running errands for my staff, but my cell battery is low and I need another cup of joe. I head back to the coffee shop for a break. Someone waves at me, and it's Angela Bennett. The daughter of one of my clients, she was there when I did the initial quote. I wave back and she walks out the door. Richardson puts his paper down and leaves too.

Around four, I get back to my shop to answer the phones. I walk out the door and pass a silver sedan on the way to my truck.

Instinctually, I look inside the sedan. All I see is blood and bruises. It's Angela. Her forehead looks like it was painted black and red. My stomach curls. Somehow I remember to call 911, but my battery is dead. I don't know what to do. People are walking by, ignorant or apathetic of the situation. But Angela is clutching her cell phone in a bloody grip. I open the door and slide the phone out of her hand. I try to dial, but the keys are too small for my gloved fingers. I pull my glove off with my mouth and make the call. When the dispatcher answers I mumble something about a naked woman and, "I think she's been raped, Silver honda, corner of fifteenth and Broad."

The dispatcher is saying something to me, but I don't hear her. Across the street, James Richardson is watching me, arms crossed, that same impish grin on his face.

The detective's voice rattles in my head... "You wait until she leaves and follow her to her car, when she opens the door, you grab her hair and smash her head in!" I notice blood on the drivers side, just above the door frame. I end the call and throw the cell back in the car and close the door with my gloved hand. Richardson is gone. I stalk back to my truck. I have to leave.

Home is only ten blocks away, and I barely make it. I'm in shock. I fiddle with the key and stomp in. Veronica and Stepha aren't home. I need a drink. I grab a bottle of vodka and reach for the shot glass. As I pour it, my thumb leaves a red imprint on the glass. The glass slides out of my fingers and smashes on the floor. I run to the sink and wash the blood off my hand.

I dry my hand on my pants. The alcohol numbs my body and releases my mind. I remembered what the cop said about the woman that had been raped a few days ago, she was knocked unconscious, and then driven back to the coffee shop. Angela was in her own car, next to the coffee shop. And I left my prints on her phone. Her blood's on my hands, in my house. Then I remembered Richardson's impish grin. Veronica's voice, "He had such a crush on me..." And the slight menace in his eyes when I mentioned Veronica and I having a child.

God, I thought, he's trying to frame me.

Options. I had to think. I took another gulp of the vile liquid, bemused at the seeming clarity it gave me. I didn't trust the cops. Once I crossed into their territory, it was unlikely I could escape. They wouldn't listen to me about Richardson. I could confront him, take matters into my own hands. I wanted to. I wanted to kill the bastard. But then I'd be up for rape and murder. No. I had to get something on him. Some greasy sleazy fact that the cops could use to nail him.

But the cops would be here soon. They'd figure it out. A couple ideas came to mind. I jumped into the truck and drove to work. I had to make some calls and get the one tonne.

I went to my office and locked the door. Guys were still signing out. I didn't want to be seen, so I pulled the blinds down. I checked the sheet for the one tonne, no one would be using it tomorrow, so I signed my name under Friday. Then I called my partner, lied to him about a family matter, and told him I had to take a weeks personal time and I needed the truck. He reluctantly agreed. Then I made another call.

A man I know runs background checks on the guys I hire. He doesn't even need their social security numbers. I asked him to run Richardson and fax the results to my house. "Rush it." I said. He would have it for me in a couple hours.

Then I paced. Do I run away by myself? No. I couldn't leave Veronica and Stepha. But how would I tell them? "Sorry honey, I've been accused of raping two women and now I have to run from the cops because I'm being framed by the guy who has a crush on you."

My anger mounted. The pencil snapped in my hand. I had to do more. I looked at Richardson's address again. It was an apartment ten miles away. I opened a drawer and grabbed my digital camera.

I pulled up to the building as the sun was setting. I was glad that there wasn't a doorman. I rang the downstairs buzzer. "Pizza." No answer. I left the main entrance and took the side door. A guy was just leaving and I caught the door before it closed. I took the stairs two at a time and reached the third floor. The lock was easy enough to pick, and I wore gloves. I stepped in the blackness and shone my flashlight. The kitchen and living room were well ordered. I checked the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and saw nothing unusual. So was his bedroom. There had to be something. I opened the closet. I searched drawers and cabinets. Nothing. My flashlight shone over his desk. He was a journalist, maybe he did research. Out of the crisp folders and bleached printouts, a weathered folder got my attention. I had to work quickly. I flipped it open, and saw a number of pictures of women, one of them Angela and another of Elizabeth. I turned on the GPS on my camera and snapped the pictures as I flipped through. A couple of the women were in military uniforms. There were business cards, newspaper clippings, one of the women was on court TV, a marine lawyer. I flipped through and found a photocopy of a yearbook page. It had Veronica's picture circled. Then there were the reciepts of the work that was done on the victims apartments. A large yellow sticky had a bunch of times and addresses on them. It all coincided with my visits at the coffee shop. Richardson had been following me.

At the end of the folder, a newspaper clipping had been cut out and taped to the back. It said, Navy Lieutenant pleads not guilty in sexual assualt case. I read enough to get the gist of it. Lieutenant James Richardson had been accused of sexually assaulting a superior officer on a aircraft carrier. He denied everything. The date was roughly seven years ago. I snapped a picture of it. Satisfied that I had something, I headed home.

I parked the one tonne truck across the street from my house. The light was on. Veronica was probably cooking dinner and worrying about me. I unlocked the door and stepped in. "I'm home!" I called out, slipping my rain soaked jacket off.

"Johnny!"

I felt like I had been kicked in the nuts. Sitting in the living room with my wife and daughter was James Richardson.

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd drop by." James got up. "Nice place you got here. Cute kid." He smiled warmly and I tried my best not to pummel him into the ground.

James revealed nothing. Behind him Veronica attended to Stepha, dangling a toy that she half heartedly swatted.

"Well, I should be going. I'll see you later Ronnie." James pushed past me. "Have a good night."

I let the door hit him on the way out. Then I stalked over to Veronica. "Don't you ever let anyone over without my permission. Ever."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"You heard me." I stomped to my office, burning with hatred. I checked the fax machine. Nothing.

"You think you can control what goes on around here? I have to have permission now? Where have you been? I called your cell three times but it was turned off."

"I've been working."

"Working? I called work and they asked me how my mother was. Now you're off for a week? What did you tell them? "

She was pushing buttons, asking too many questions at once. "Shut Up! Just shut up!" I raged at her.

Veronica stopped, thrown off guard. She backed away, and her lower lip quivered. Sudden shame flushed my cheeks. I have never yelled at her this way before. I held my head in my hands. "We have to go. The cops think I did something bad... they'll be here soon."

"What?"

"You have to believe me, I didn't do it. But they might have enough evidence. I don't know."

"What? What happened?"

"No. The less you know the better. Look, I can't really tell you. You could get in trouble. Call your mother. We'll go visit her in Jersey."

Veronica grabbed my arms. "What's going on John, tell me," she pleaded. "We can work it out. I know a good lawyer, let's just go to the police, it can't be that bad..."

"It is that bad. No lawyers. No cops. I can prove I wasn't involved. It'll just take time. We have to leave tonight, we'll take everything and go."

"I can't-"

"We have to."

We were gone by five am.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you for your patience Readers, the end is nigh...

Reviews are much appreciated.

Sins of the Father

Part 12

Squadroom

130 am

Olivia took a long and weary sigh as she gazed at her teammates. They were all gathered in a semicircle around the board where pictures of victims mixed with reports and statements from police, blown up pictures of the video Olivia had seen and colored marker lines connecting them. Standing in the center Captain Cragen drew them in with his calm gaze. "Thanks to Huang and Morales, we managed to track down our perp." He pointed to a picture of a young man with sandy blonde hair and a faint goatee. "James Richardson, a thirty-three year old white male, previously charged and convicted of sexual assault seven years ago. He was sentenced to seven years in leavenworth and dishonorably discharged from the Navy." Cragen looked over to their resident tech. "Morales?"

"From the last transaction on Richardson's credit card account, we managed to find the house in the video. Forty-two Oak drive, Westchester county. We believe Richardson is inside with the other victim, whom we haven't identified."

"There is something else we need to consider," Huang interrupted. "Though I don't have proof, I believe that Richardson's father was Terrance Mclean, a man convicted of rape thirty three years ago, however I can't be certain he knows this."

"So what does he want?" asked Olivia, "Why did he leave me this video?"

Huang tapped his chin. "He wants us to respond with ultimate force... He's diverting us from something."

"Elliot," said Cragen, "Call Cabot, tell her we need a warrant for Richardson's apartment ASAP. We need to find everything we can on Richardson"

"On it."

Fin held up a file. "Check this out, Richardson and Aberdeen were College roomates and high school buddies. Munch tracked down their old alma mater at Hudson. First year roomates, then they both dropped out. Aberdeen went to trade school and Richardson signed up for the Navy."

"The navy?" Olivia's head snapped up.

"Yeah, a few years later, he gets nailed on sex assault charges, sentenced to leavenworth for 7-15. he was released three months ago."

"Think that explains the Mac connection?" Stabler glanced over at his partner.

"I better give her a call..." Olivia reached for her phone.

"No need to... I'm already here."

Olivia turned to see Mac leaning against the doorway to the squadroom. Her hair was a little dishevelled and her face lined with dark circles. Gone was her well put together look, replaced by a simple white sweater and jeans. Behind her a worried Commander Rabb peered into the squadroom. Olivia stood up,"Mac," she said, surprised. "We need to talk." She ushered her into a private room and gestured for her to take a seat. Mac paced instead, arms wrapped around her body protectively.

"It was the wrong man." Mac said finally.

"How did you know?" asked Olivia.

"I trusted my instincts. I had to see the body... to make sure," she licked her lips. "John Aberdeen didn't assault me."

Olivia nodded and put her hand on Mac's shoulder, guiding her to the couch. They both sat down. Olivia rubbed her palms together and steepled her fingers. "He sent us a message. We know who he is now." She leaned forward "Does the name James Richardson ring a bell?"

Mac closed her eyes for a moment.

_The courtroom had just been renovated, the distinct smell of hardwood varnish and paint added a layer to the procedings as Mac paced the courtroom in front of the Members. "The Defendant, Lieutenant James Richardson, had a history of reckless and perverted behavior before he was even accepted into the Navy, as testified by his peers from Hudson University. He then continued that behavior despite warnings from his superior officers. On the morning of July 17 2000 he entered the female shower on the U.S.S Lexington, where he saw Ensign Littman alone and crying in apparent emotional distress. Instead of following protocol and alerting another female crewmember to the scene, he approached her and made lewd sexual remarks before pinning her to the floor and fondling her breasts. If it wasn't for Commander McCrae's interference, Lieutenant Richardson would have gotten away with rape..."_

"I put him away seven years ago for sexual assault." Mac said. "You're saying he's got a vendetta against me?"

"We're not sure. But we know that he's hiding out in a house in Westchester, and he has another victim."

"Oh God."

xxx

The old house creaked and cracked and Veronica huddled in the cold basement. After struggling against her bonds for some time, she was exhausted. Desperation urged her to continue. Jimmy would be back soon, and she didn't know what he was going to do next. Escape was her only option. Jimmy had tied her legs together, but there was some slack in the rope. Veronica pushed herself up and hobble-hopped around the basement. There had to be something here she could use. She bumped into what felt like a work bench. Something jagged and sharp scraped against her palm. A hacksaw blade. She slid it into her back pocket. Leaning against the wall, she worked to release her bonds.

xxx

Harm drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited on a bench outside the squad room. He wondered what was going on in there. There seemed to be an unusual flurry of activity for two o'clock in the morning.

"Coffee?"

Harm looked up to a steaming mug in a thick hand. "Thanks, detective...?" He couldn't place a name.

"Stabler. Commander Rabb, right?"

"Yeah," Harm said, and offered his hand for a quick shake. The middle aged man had a certain intensity about him, the kind you would expect from a New York cop, but there was also that same deep heaviness that he had seen in Olivia. _The weight of the world. _

"Why don't you come in, have a seat."

"Sure." As Harm ambled in he could see Mac and Detective Benson talking in another room. A small cirle of men surrounded a table and laid out plans.

" Maybe you could help us Commander," Stabler asked. "Can you access military records of discharged soldiers?"

Harm thought for a moment. Personnel files were off limits without a warrant. He would need permission from the higher-ups. Even if the person was involved in a crime. "Not from here. I'd have to call down to Quantico. Why?"

"The man we're looking for is former Navy, just out of Leavenworth. Colonel Mackenzie prosecuted him seven years ago for sexual assault. We've got a potential hostage situation and the more we know about him, the better."

Harm thought for a moment. There were other ways... If he had been in the JAG system there would be witness statements, court documents, etc. One might be able to come up with a personality profile from that. "I might be able to get access to an online court dockett, I'll have to make a call though."

"Good, do it."

"What's the name?"

"Lieutenant James Richardson."

Harm hated to call Bud at this hour, so he was surprised when Bud answered on the first ring. "Roberts here."

"Bud, you're still up?"

" Commander!" Bud said from the other end.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I am in bed sir, but I'm glad you called. I've been trying to get a hold of Mac but I think her phone is turned off. "

"What is it Lieutenant?"

"I was checking the public JAG email account. Someone sent a file and I think

Mac needs to see it. I'll forward it to you."

Now Harm was curious, what could be so important? "Who's it from?" he asked.

"Uh, a civilian, I think, name of John Aberdeen?"

"What? Alright, send it to me right away, I'll make sure she sees it."

"Yes sir."

"And I need you to do something else for me, I need all court information regarding a Lieutenant James Richardson. He was convicted of sexual assault seven years ago."

"Of course sir, I'll get right on it."

"Thanks Bud, I owe you one." Rabb ended the call and opened his email account. His eyes widened. Mac would want to see this. He stood up, but was brushed aside by several men in bullet proof vests and ESU jackets. He turned to Detective Stabler, "What's going on?"

"Potential hostage situation." Captain Cragen barged through the door to his office. "Everyone's been briefed. Elliot, here's the warrant for Richardson's house, check it out. The rest of us are going to Westchester." Cragen said, swinging his jacket over his shoulder.

"Where's Mac?"

"Here." Mac said, striding out of a nearby room. I'm going with them. You coming?"

"Mac, you gotta see this," Harm held up his blackberry, "Bud sent it to me."

She scrolled through the email, her brows knit in concentration. "I don't understand."

"John Aberdeen broke into Richardsons apartment and took these photos. He knew he was beimg set up. This was insurance."

"If they catch him, there might be enough evidence there to convict..." Mac trailed off.

"I dont know... maybe we need another look at his apartment" Harm stroked his chin.

"I'm going to Westchester, but detective Stabler was assigned to Richardson's aparment. Why don't you go with him?"

"Okay." Harm clasped her hand," Take care of yourself Mac."

Xxx

Veronica rubbed her wrists and ankles. Now to get out. There was a small dusty window in the far corner, if she could smash it, she could probably squeeze through the small opening and make a run for it. A red steel tool box seemed like the perfect object to break out with. She lifted it over her head and shattered the glass. Covering her hands with her sweater, Veronica cleared the remaining shards out of the window. An old dresser sufficed as a makeshift ladder. Finally free of the wretched basement, Veronica made her way to the Camaro, She didn't know or care where James had gone, she just had to get to the Camaro. The door was unlocked and she reached for the her purse on the passenger seat. Without warning, she was wrenched back by her hair. "Where do you think you're going, missy?" James whirled her around, and she retaliated with a left hook which he dodged, but failed to prepare for her right uppercut. He staggered back, snarling in pain. Veronica snatched her purse and ran for her life down the road.

It was only a few seconds later that she heard the spitfire engine of the camaro gunning for her. Veronica had no choice but to run through the woods. The headlights lit up the first hundred feet or so, and she crashed through at a rapid pace. Just as abrubtly, the light disappeared. She risked a look back in time to see the Camaro turning away from the woods and back onto the road. In the distance, flashing police lights sped down the highway.

xxx

Four marked police cars approached the estate and formed a concave semicircle in the driveway. Two more vans pulled up, barely stopping before the ESU squad made a formation around the building and rammed the door. Police swarmed the house, Olivia in the thick of it. When they came to the basement, Olivia sucked in a breath. She swept the room, flashlight and gun in hand as other teammembers scrambled inside. Cragen came down behind her. "Anything?"

Olivia stared in dismay. "We're too late," she said, her flashlight fixated on the broken window. "They're gone."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N Wow, I can't believe it's been like 3 years since my first post. Thank you readers, you are awesome! I am on the last leg of this journey and I'm gonna keep trucking till this is done. _

_Thanks again_

_Reviews appreciated._

_Enjoy!_

Sins of the Father

Chapter 13

Seven years ago:

"_Lieutenant Richardson, a word with you please…" _

_"Yes ma'am." He nodded and followed the XO into her office. Commander McCrae was a short but powerfully built woman who didn't put up with a lot of bull. He secretly liked that, unlike some of the whiners in his crew._

_Commander McCrae walked behind her desk but didn't sit in her chair, "I've been hearing reports of harassment from some of the female crew. Name calling, oggling, being uncooperative... do you deny these allegations?"_

"_That depends, ma'am, on the accuracy of those statements." _

"_Let's take a look, shall we..." she picked up a file and flipped through it. "Petty Officer Gladue reports you saying'hurry up, 'bitch' when she arrived late to her post Wednesday night at 1800 hours. Ensign Littman reports that you looked at her 'suggestively and then slapped her butt as she was leaving the Officers Mess Monday morning at 0630. And Lieutenant Commander Chapman has informed me of your general unco-operative behavior with her and any female team members." The Commander looked up from the file and put a hand on her hip, " These complaints, proven or not, are now officially on your file. On another note, your transfer request to the S.S Barracuda has been granted."_

"_Yes ma'am." He was glad to be transferred to a submarine. No females, no problems. No drama, just follow orders._

"_Let me be clear Lieutenant," McCrae warned. "Keep your nose and other body parts clean for the next two weeks of our tour, or I will file charges and ensure you are out of the Navy for good. Got it?"_

"_Yes ma'am." He said again. _

"_Good. And Lieutenant, it looks like you need a shave... dismissed"._

"_Ma'am," He said with a sharp salute. He left the office and headed for the bunks. Commander McCrae had it out for him, he had to be careful. At least she had approved his transfer request. Two more weeks until they docked and then he could transfer to the S.S Barracuda._

_He rubbed his chin absently. He did need a shave. He had fifteen minutes before he had to report for duty on the bridge, he could take a quick shave. He picked up his personals and jogged to the head. As he passed the womens showers he heard a funny sound. He stopped and strained to hear. There it was again. Crying. He took a couple steps into the showers, "Hello?" he called, The whimpering continued, he took another step. "Uh, are you ok?" He didn't see anyone, just heard the sound continue. He turned, thinking it would be best to get a female crewmember to assist._

"_Lieutenant! What are you doing here?" Commander McCrae seemed to appear out of nowhere. "What did i just tell you?"_

"_Commander?" Lt. Richardson was genuinely surprised, "It's not what it looks like!"_

"_I'll let JAG be the judge of that! Consider yourself relieved." McCrae pushed him out of the way, "are you okay?" she called out to the woman in the shower..._

Richardson shook away the memories, it was payback time, and he had a plane to catch. His Camaro revved to a higher gear as he snickered at the flashing police lights far, far behind him.

xxx

Midtown Manhattan

"Police!" Elliot called as he banged on the apartment door. "I got a warrant! Open up!" When there was no answer, he kicked it in. He and two other officers did a quick sweep of the apartment, upon finding it empty he motioned for Commander Rabb to enter. "See anything familiar?" he asked.

"I'll let you know when I do..." Rabb walked to Richardson's desk and began rifling through the files there.

Elliot now took in the apartment with the eye of a detective, looking for details that would tell him about his perp. The apartment was spartan, with few personal belongings, no pictures or keepsakes that would generally float around a place. "Guy likes his alcohol," Elliot said as he opened a box of empty liquor bottles. Not finding anything else of interest in the kitchen or living room, Elliot stepped into the bedroom. It was neat and tidy, with a bed, dresser and an antique vanity. _Strange, _thought Elliot. _How many men have a vanity in their bedroom? _Laying on top was a wig that matched the same hair color and style as John Aberdeen. He made a note to bag it, and the contents of the make-up drawer. Next, he sat on the bed and did a full 360 scan of the room. That's when he saw it, right above him. A provocactive picture of a woman posed naked on a bed of roses. She looked a decade younger, but it was her.

"Detective!" Rabb called. Elliot slid off the bed and hustled down the hallway.

"What'd you find?"

"Reciepts for Aberdeen's clients, with their addresses, post-it notes with times and locations, and this..." Rabb held up an article, _JAG Lawyer appears on Court TV... _"I did some digging on the computer. He purchased a ticket online for Okinawa using Aberdeen's credit card. Flight leaves 0500 from JFK today."

"What's in Okinawa?" Elliot asked aloud.

"Okinawa..." Harm muttered. "Mac was stationed there before she was transferred to D.C."

"But Mac is here... so why go back there?" A blaring ringtone interrupted his thoughts. He flipped his phone open, "Yeah," he said.

"_Hey, any leads?" _Olivia asked on the other side. _"We lost him." _

"He bought a one way ticket to Okinawa."

"_Okinawa? What's in Okinawa?"_

"That's what we're trying to figure out. Talk to Mac, she was stationed out of Okinawa at the time of Richardson's trial."

"_Ok, which airport was he leaving from?"_

"JFK."

"_Alright, I'll inform the Captain, we'll head down that way."_

"You got it." Elliot snapped his phone shut, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something... he turned to Rabb. "Any bells going off on your radar?"

"Not sure I know what you mean," the taller man replied.

"Just doesn't add up. He left us a nice fat trail of breadcrumbs, something's not right here." Why, thought Elliot, would Richardson run away from the cops straight toward one of the most secure and heavily protected airports in the world? One phone call and picture text would put him in cuffs as soon as he showed his face in the door.

"Well, if you were Richardson, what would you do?"

Elliot snorted. "Run the other way. Get the cops going in one - wait a sec-" Eliott turned toward Rabb. "There's an airport in Westchester County."

Rabb's face turned serious. "We gotta tell 'em to turn around."

Elliot flipped his phone open. "On it."

xxx

It had happened so quickly in Mac's eyes. She could only watch as the cops did their jobs, smashing the door in, swarming the place, but she knew Richardson wasn't there. She felt it, but no one would believe her if she said anything. So instead she kept an eye out for anything suspicous. There. Movement alongside the house in the woods. Mac walked closer, straining to see. "Hello?" She called out. "Who's there?"

The shape moved closer and Mac could see it was a woman. Mac wasn't the only one to notice, as a couple officers and detective Munch started to walk toward her. When the woman emerged from the woods, the officers drew their weapons, "Stay there! Hands up!" One of them yelled.

"Please don't hurt me," the woman said, panicking. She flung her arms up as she faced the officers, tears in her eyes. The officers lowered their weapons when they realized who she was.

Mac approached the woman, "It's alright, you're safe now." It was like looking in a mirror. Mac saw the same frightened face that she saw in herself earlier today. Her knuckles itched and Mac forced herself to remain calm.

"I know," she sniffed. "But he's nowhere near here, I saw him leave five minutes ago down that road."

"Are you sure?" asked Munch.

"Yes, he saw you coming a mile away."

"He won't get far," Munch said, "We've got road blocks and patrol cars surrounding the area."

"So what do we do now?" asked Mac.

"Captain! Olivia!" Munch called to the two detectives as they emerged from the house. He cocked his head at the woman and they headed toward him. "Detective Benson will take you down to the station to take your statement. Don't worry miss, everything will be alright."

The woman looked at Mac. "Are you Detective Benson?"

Mac shook her head, "No... my name is Sarah, what's yours?

She clutched her purse. "Veronica."

Olivia suddenly appeared beside Mac, "Just got off the phone with Elliot, Richardson is going to JFK airport, we leave now we can still catch up to him."

"What about her?" Mac asked.

"She can ride with us for now." Olivia opened the door to the Crown Vic. Mac nodded and hopped in the passenger side.

They sped down the freeway, everyone focused on the task ahead. "Mac, do you know of any reason Richardson would head to Okinawa?"

"Okinawa?" Mac mulled it over, nothing really came to mind. "I was stationed there when I prosecuted him, it was his home base, most of the crew of the Lexington lived there when they were off the ship..." She drifted off, her mind working backwards. Anyone that Richardson knew from the Lexington had probably been redeployed elsewhere, unless they were senior officers, the Captain, the XO, "Commander McCrae!" she blurted.

"Commander who?"

As fresh as yesterday, the memory surfaced in Mac's mind.

"_Commander McCrae, Can you tell me what you saw on the morning in question?" Mac approached the witness stand._

_Commander Lisa McCrae was calm and cool. "Yes, I was just leaving my office to prepare for my morning duties on the bridge, I was walking past the woman's showers when I heard what sounded like a woman crying. When I entered the showers, I saw Lieutenant Richardson lying on top of Ensign Littman, with his hand her under her shirt, on her breast. She was struggling to get him off of her."_

"_So what did you do?"_

"_I ran up to them, he saw me and backed off. I ordered him confined to quarters and called JAG in to investigate."_

"_Thank you Commander."_

"Commander McCrae was Richardson's commanding officer, and a witness to the assault that I prosecuted him for." Mac said, not sure where this new angle fit into the puzzle.

"Yeah well, she's his last target," Olivia said.

Mac took in a breath and braced herself. Was it ever going to end?

Olivia's phone rang, "Benson, she said, her voice urgent. "What? You're sure? Yeah I know where it is... Yes sir, I understand. Got it." Olivia put her phone down and checked her mirrors, then swung the car into a u-turn.

"What's going on?" Mac asked raising an eyebrow at her half sister.

"Elliot thinks Richardson is heading to Westchester County Airport."

Mac thought about it for a minute, it made sense, why run to JFK when you can slide over to WCA?

xxx

The road was bumpy and the car didn't seem to slow down. Veronica swallowed hard to keep from upchucking. She felt the gun in her purse. Her breath came in short and shallow. She did everything she could to control herself, but it seemed an impossible task. That bastard had turned her against her husband, made her think that he had done all those disgusting things, when it had been Jimmy the entire time, playing her like a marionette. She looked down at the gun again, palms sweaty. Jimmy was a dead man.

The car sped up, they were heading back to Westchester. Veronica didn't put it past Jimmy for misleading the cops. She tried to look through the darkness to find out where she was. From the lights of the control tower in the distance, she guessed that they were approaching the airport.

Bright light caused her to look to her left, and suddenly there was a terrible squeal and crunch of metal on metal. Weightless and spinning, Veronica succumbed to blackness.

xxx

The long blast of a car horn irritated Olivia's peaceful sleep. She reached for her pillow to cover her ears, only to realise there was no pillow. "Mmmm," she murmured, her eyelids felt heavy, she had to open them, she had to wake up. "Uhhh," she groaned, the sound of her voice more real to her. The last few minutes of memory flashed through her mind. She was still in the Crown Vic, something had crashed into her... an accident... "oh my God!" she snapped awake.

She pushed herself up from the steering wheel and the remnants of the airbag, and looked around. The car was empty. Operating on automatic pilot, she unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open. She felt dizzy but shook it off. Looking back at the smoking wreckage, she could only wonder what the hell happened.

xxx

Mac came to as if woken from a nightmare. She moaned in as the sudden intake of breath caused a sharp pain in her side. Mentally checking everything, she wiggled body parts to make sure they were still operational. Yup, she was in good order, except for the ache of whiplash. Everything was dark, and she wondered if she had gone blind. But then she realized that she wasn't in the car at all. She felt around her. she was buckled in a comfortable leather seat,.

Suddenly the lights turned on and she blinked.

"Well well, look what I found." The voice chilled her to the core. Richardson sat in front of her, sawed off shotgun in his lap.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N Hello Readers! Thanks again for your wonderful support! You are amazing! One more chapter after this and I will call it a wrap, so stay tuned! Also have a few more crossovers in the works for other shows. (hopefully those won't take so long to write!) Anywho, Read, Review, and Enjoy!

xxx

Sins of the Father

Part 14

Glad she ditched her heels for boots when she left the precinct, Olivia kept a brisk pace on the shoulder of the road. She walked quickly, looking back every couple minutes for a car to pass that she could wave down. She estimated she was about 15 minutes away from the airport and she hazarded a guess that Mac was there, with Richardson. Lights got her attention and she spun, waving her arms. The familiar car rolled to a stop just ahead of her. It was Elliot and Commander Rabb. "Why didn't you radio for help?" asked Elliot.

She shook her head. "The car radio was smashed in. and my personal radio is missing. So's my phone."

Commander Rabb got out and gestured for her to sit in the passenger seat. He hopped in the back as Olivia explained everything that happened in the last half hour. "I doubt he could handle both of them." Olivia said. "Either he has Veronica and Mac went after him or he has Mac and Veronica is in the wind." The car slowed to a stop as they entered the small airport's parking center

"We're here," said Elliot, "Back-up's ten minutes away. Security has shut down the runway."

"Let's go." Olivia picked up the pace and jogged ahead of them toward a cadre of airport security guards. Behind her, Rabb rolled his eyes at Stabler, who shrugged and followed suit. They would need to co-oordinate with airport security, there was any number of places Richardson could hide.

xxx

Veronica checked her gun again. She had been consious when Richardson had come to the car. She thought he was after her, but instead, he grabbed Sarah who was still out cold. He didn't even look at her. Now Veronica was only a few yards away from the airport. A deep cold chill caused her to shudder. _'Why am I doing this?' _she asked herself. Something was driving her. Madness? Rage? Profound sadness? _'Probably all three.' _She thought. There was an overwhelming need in her to _do_ something. Veronica would not stand idly by. She took a deep breath and stuck the gun in her waistband. She followed the fence until she found what she was looking for. A hole big enough for two. She guessed that Richardson would be in one of the nearby hangers.

xxx

Barely containing her fury, Mac dug her fingernails into the leather armrests.Her nightmare was right in front of her, and all she wanted to do was hammer him into pulp. She forced herself to breathe, to focus. No mistakes. She looked around, assessing her situation. She was on a small plane, maybe a cessna, and from the lack of light on the outside, she guessed they were still in the hanger. She glared at Richardson sitting nonchalantly across from her. "What do you want?"

Richardson's face twitched ever so slightly. "Since when did you care?" he smirked and stood up. The whole situation was ironic, as there was nothing Mac could really do at this point.

"Since you decided to take me hostage and fly me to God knows where."

"Oh, so _now_ you care..."

"Was I supposed to care before or after you tried to rape me?"

"You're right. I don't expect you to care, Mac. Nobody cares about you after you're convicted. But maybe now you know what it was like for me those last seven years. Imagine spending seven years with me in a very tiny space..." He drifted off, and Mac started to realize what he was saying. He had spent the last seven years victimized in prison.

"There's nothing I can do about that," Mac said quietly. Was that compassion in her voice? She hoped not. There may have been a time when Richardson was a victim, but no longer. He was the one with the gun. "What is this going to accomplish? The police are on their way, they'll shut down the runway, they'll find us, and in all likelihood, you won't make it out alive."

"How persuasive Colonel. But I'm just too stubborn. I'll tell you what I want. I want what you should have given me seven years ago. Justice. But you were too much of a hotshot to realize it."

"I formed my conclusions based on the evidence, you were in that room with the ensign, and there was credible eyewitness testimony claiming that you assaulted ensign Littman."

"Credible? And how would you know for sure?"

"There is no reason to doubt either the victim or Commander McCrae."

Richardson leaned in so close, she could smell his breath. "I wanted off that ship. And so did the Commander. But my request was denied. She told me it was approved the same day that I 'allegedly' assaulted Ensign Littman. Don't you find that a bit odd?"

Mac mulled over this new information. Nothing had come up in her interview of the attending JAG or in any of the files she recieved when she took the assignment. "As far as I remember, your request for transfer was approved. And as I recall, it was one of your defenses you were going to be transferred, thereby you had no reason to soil your disciplinary record."

"Well Colonel, you better do some digging, because my transfer was denied," he leaned against the seat and pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside of his jacket. "Signed by the Captain himself."

"What?" Mac carefully scrutinzed the paper. It was dated three days before the incident in the womens showers. It looked legitimate, but Mac still didn't trust it. "Just what are you insinuating? that the Commander cooked up some scheme to get you off the ship when she realized she couldn't get rid of you?"

"That's exactly what i'm insinuating. But you know what? While I was in prison, I learned something... Nobody gives a damn. So I say Fuck it. Fuck everybody, and enjoy it. Life is short." He grinned ruthlessly and shoved the shotgun barrel in her face. "Bang!" he laughed. The steel cold glint in his eye returned and he lifted the gun away, blowing fake smoke off the nozzle.

Mac shuddered as Richardson turned around and sat in the pilot seat. She focused on her restraints, they still held fast, even as she had been trying to free herself while Richardson was yapping. She had to escape before the plane was in the air.

Just out the window she could see the hangar bay doors open, and light streamed through. A high pitched whine erupted from the engine and the plane turned slowly toward the entrance. But to her surprise, Richardson got out of the pilot's seat and faced her, knife in hand.

xxx

"I got his files," Rabb said, glancing at his phone as Elliot drove the small jeep they borrowed from airport security. "Richardson only passed basic flight training, he was not recommended for further aviation training."

"What does that mean?" asked Olivia.

"It means he can only fly a single piston engine. No more than three passengers."

Elliot spun the vehicle around. "The small engine hangar bay is this way."

"Step on it!" Olivia yelled. She picked up Elliot's portable radio, "This is detective Benson, All units converge on Hangar bay E Repeat, All units, converge on hangar bay E." Sirens and Police vehicles swept out of the darkness and lit up the runway. As they approached, Olivia could hear the high pitched whine of the plane from inside the Hanger. "In here!" She called, "Move, move move!" The bay door opened, and out shot the plane.

"Hang on," Elliot said, and sped up on a collision course with the plane. At the last second, the Jeep shifted ninety degrees on its axis and coasted sideways, blocking the plane. The plane continued on its course into the police car. Olivia jumped out, firing at the plane. It plowed into them, pushing their vehicle down the runway. While all the attention was on the plane, Olivia spotted movement inside the hanger. She ran toward it. Two people, one of them had to be Richardson, the other looked like Mac. He was pushing her in front of him. It looked like he was holding a gun. He pushed her through a back door of the hanger. "Stop right there!" she yelled, right on his heels. He continued running, but somehow Mac caused him to lose his balance, freeing herself from his grip. Richardson spun around, reaching, but Mac was too far away.

"Jimmy!" A voice called from behind her. Olivia turned and saw Veronica marching toward them, a solid fearless look in her eye. A look that every cop feared. That 'Go to Hell Look.'

Olivia drew her weapon and pointed it in Richardson's direction, but she spoke to Veronica, "Stay back!" Richardson was only a few feet away, a sawed off shotgun held low. What happened next played in slow motion to Olivia, as if each step was brutally choreographed. Veronica reached behind her back, and Olivia saw Mac's face change as she stepped toward her. Veronica was packing heat. She turned her attention to Richardson, his gun now aimed at Veronica. If she shot him, he could still pull the trigger.

Instinctively, Olivia lept out, wrapped her hand around the barrel of the shotgun and pulled it down and away from Mac and Veronica. Richardson struggled for control. The sound was deafening and echoed around in the open air. Heat from the barrel seared her palm. She let go and watched as blood spurted from the side of Richardson's head. _Good, _she thought strangely. And then she felt immense and powerful pain in her side. Her hand touched the affected area and Olivia saw blood from below her vest. _Damn... _She floated for a moment, then hit the ground hard.

When Mac saw the glint of steel from Veronica's waistband, she knew it was bad news. Veronica pulled the handgun out with such a cold dead look in her eyes that Mac knew she was going to kill him, or get killed. She grabbed Veronica's arm and felt the familiar tug of recoil as the gun went off. Using a nerve pinch, Mac disarmed Veronica, but feared the worst as she turned around.

Veronica slumped to her knees and covered her mouth with her hands. Mac followed her gaze to the two bloody bodies just a few feet away.

xxx

SVU Squadroom

630 am

"And that's all you saw?" Captain Cragen asked Mac. He betrayed no emotion, save for the worry deep in his eyes. Worry for Olivia, who was in surgery at this very moment.

"Yes Captain." She was worried too, and tired, weary of the long interview. But it was necessary, It involved a police officer, so every detail had to be analysed, scrutinized, examined to the bone. She looked up, gazing at the two-way mirror in the interview room. But her gaze passed her own reflection to the man she knew was behind it. Harm had been there the whole time... he had been there for her.

"Alright." Cragen clicked off the recorder, snapping Mac out of her trance. He wrote a few more notes down before sliding a sheet over to her. "I'll need you to sign this affidavit, and you'll be free to go."

"Thank you." She signed the document, gathered her jacket and turned to the door Cragen held open.

"And Colonel, you've got some of the finest instincts for the job that I've seen."

She hesitated. "You may feel that way sir, but I could have stopped this sooner."_ Much sooner, _she thought as the door closed behind her.

xxx

Bellevue Hospital

11 am

The private room was sparse except for the usual medical equipment that beeped and whirred in time with its patient, a woman who looked much smaller in the broad hospital bed. Three and a half hours of surgery to repair damaged tissue and organs in her abdomen had put her fast asleep.

But she was not alone, in fact only a few hours ago, the room had been crowded with the SVU squad as she had been rolled out of surgery, but now only one remained, a man too big for the cramped chair that he wrapped his legs around

"What- where?"

Elliot jerked up when he heard her speak, "Liv," he rubbed his eyes and untangled himself from his seat.

"Elliot...?" She started, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips.

"You got shot. Your vest took some of it, but you're gonna be here awhile." He held her hand.

"Richardson-"

"Is dead. Veronica shot him. Gonna be some major paperwork, but don't worry about that, just..." he trailed off as she fell back asleep, "Get some rest." For a long moment he held her hand in his, then lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly. Maybe he imagined it, but he thought her face looked a little more at peace afterwords.


	16. Chapter 16

Well, this is it! the final installment! It was a pleasure! Thank you my beautiful fans, you are truly what makes the world go around!

Sins of the Father

Part 15

_Three days later._

New York.

Olivia plunked her overnight bag on the couch and sank down into the soft cushions with relief. She kicked her shoes off. Should she have tea? Or a hot bath? _Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a moment..._ Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and a familiar voice calling her name from the other side. Olivia wasn't surprised at her partner's arrival but the thought of a warm bath dissapated as she struggled to sit up, "Come in," she said.

"Hey," Elliot pushed the door open and slid through. He was wearing the sweater and jean combo that typically meant he had a day off.

"What are you doing here?" Her bluntness was surprising, but only because she was tired. She welcomed his presence but hoped it would be short so she could pass out on the couch.

Elliot shrugged and looked around, "Came by to see if you needed anything,"

"I don't know El... I just got here, how did you know I was back?"

"Cragen called me." Elliot walked over and sat across from her, steepling his hands. His face had that look- pursed lips, small squint, eyebrows knit in concentration. Something was up.

"El... spit it out."

He rubbed his hand over the light stubble on his chin and shook his head. "Nah, it's nothing, I'll tell you later." He stood up to leave.

Olivia wanted to believe that it was nothing, but it couldn't possibly be nothing. He wouldn't come all the way down here for nothing. "Wait, what is it?"

He stopped, rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath, "Well, I... did some searching while you were in the hospital."

"Searching," Olivia repeated. "For what?"

"Not what... whom. There was a New York address in Joe's address book, a close friend, Bruce Clark."

"Okay..." Where did this lead? The name Bruce was from the letter, but Olivia hadn't thought to connect the dots at the time. Why did Elliot have to go and put his big nose into everything? She didn't want to deal with this right now. A hot bath and some tea is all she wanted to trouble herself with tonight. "You were in my apartment. You could have said something." She was tired of Elliot going behind her back trying to fix her life.

Elliot put his palms out in defense, "I am now. Just listen to me okay? You woulda done the same thing for me, you know it." He cleared his throat, "Bruce died a week ago, but since he had no family, I got a look around. " he reached into his pocket and pulled out a faded rumpled piece of paper and handed it to Olivia. It was a photocopied newspaper cut out of Olivia as a high school Valedvictorian. The words, 'I found her' were scrawled in dark blue ink. "It was sent to Bruce twenty years ago."

Olivia stared at the page, wide-eyed. "He knew me? He knew who I was?"

"He followed your career," Elliot said, but his words were lost in the flurry of her own thoughts. All this time he knew her... knew who she was, what she did... but didn't bother to meet her. The hole she thought she buried when she spoke to Bill was tearing open again and she didn't know how much she could take. She snatched the picture out of Elliot's hand and lurched out of the couch to the balcony.

xxx

Mac nervously knocked on the door of Olivia's apartment and glanced at Harm.

"Think she'll like the flowers?" Harm held up the bundle they'd brought.

She tilted her head. "Can't go wrong with flowers." She heard rustling on the other side of the door and stepped back. Stabler's face appeared, "What are you guys doing here?" he asked.

"We're catching our flight out tonight, wanted to say goodbye," Harm explained. "Can we come in?"

"Uh, yeah, I'll just go get Olivia." Elliot said. He stepped back and allowed them in. Mac closed the door behind her and took a look around. She smiled. The place was warm and cozy, not at all what she expected, it was even similar to her own apartment.

"Uh, she'll be out in a minute," Elliot called, stepping in from the balcony. "You guys want something?"

"Herbal tea?" Harm asked.

"Sure." Elliot made his way to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, "Mac?" he asked, putting the kettle on the stove.

"Nothing for me thanks." Mac gazed out the balcony window at Olivia and wondered what she was thinking. While Mac battled nightmares and flashbacks of guilt, she wondered what Olivia battled. She became a cop. For justice? Or to not be like her parents? _Probably both, _Mac thought. The whistling kettle disrupted her thoughts and she stood and walked to the kitchen. She poured the hot water into the mugs, letting the chamomile aroma hit her senses. Outside, Olivia still brooded on the balcony. Mac picked up the mugs of tea and walked over to Harm and Elliot.

"Okay fine," Harm was saying to Elliot, "But that's not how you treat a lady..."

Mac handed him a mug and tried to listen to the converation, but something about Olivia's sillouhette on the balcony, the hunched shoulders and lowered head caught her eye. What did they interrupt? Mac cupped the steaming mug of tea in her hands and crossed onto the balcony.

xxx

Cool air wisped around Olivia but didn't bother her in the least. She was flush with anger and pain. Why did Elliot have to go nosing around digging up the ruins of her life? She thought she had come to terms with it. Her father was a criminal, a rapist. A victim and a perpetrator of the very crimes she investigated everyday. Perhaps in some sick way he cared about her mother and her, but at the core Joe Mackenzie could never be the father she wanted in her life. Instead he was the instigator, the reason for her being, and that felt so wrong to her.

She began to wipe the tears from her eyes when she heard the door slide open, "Elliot, I told you-"

"It's me." Mac said softly. The door slid quietly behind her.

"Oh." Taken off guard, another sob escaped her lips. She had never cried like this, never felt so vulnerable. Olivia swallowed and wiped her eyes, keeping her gaze out at the cityscape.

"Are you ok?" Mac asked, handing her the cup of tea.

"... no," and then the words just tumbled out. The pain she was in from the bullet wound that tore a chunk out of her side, the anger she felt toward her partner for snooping around... she unfolded the crumpled picture. "Why? Why did he look for me? What did he want?"

Mac covered her mouth with her hand when she saw the picture. "Oh Olivia..." she stepped up to the rail and stood beside her. "I left my father when I was seventeen... I think he felt so rejected, so abandoned, that maybe he thought..."

"That he could get to know me?"

"Maybe." Mac looked at her hands and shook her head. "I was so angry at him, you know... when I was young I blamed him for forcing my mother to leave me, driving my boyfriends away, everything that happened to me was his fault." Mac gazed thoughtfully at Olivia. "Even though you never knew him, you still carry him with you... He's part and parcel of your life. Your being a cop hinges on the fact that he raped your mother and you had to live with that your whole life."

Olivia sipped her tea and mulled over Mac's insight. Did she blame him for who she was now? Was she victimizing herself? Like Mac, Joe Mackenzie had never physically hurt her, but he was still a sore spot in her life. She stared at the photocopied picture of herself and traced the imprinted words _I found her._ Was he looking for some kind of redemption in her? Could she give it to him?

In the glow of the city, the pair of them stood out there and looked out over the vast metropolis that suddenly became so small.

xxx

_Three weeks later._

Wakefield Va.

She had driven two hours and forty-six minutes on the I-95 on a Saturday afternoon to meet with a very important person. One of the town councillors, former Ensign Tara Littman, Since she had returned from New York, Mac had gone into full research mode. It was second nature for her to always take the opposite side of things. Even though she had been the one to send Richardson packing to Leavenworth, she couldn't let go of the insinuation that maybe she had been _wrong._ Although the Marine side of her felt the situation was black and white, the lawyer inside argued for the many shades of grey, and that led her to Littman. The restaurant was small but warm, with surprisingly fresh coffee. Mac took a sip from the hot mug.

"Colonel Mackenzie?"

She looked up and saw a prim blonde woman in her early thirties with bright green eyes. She was dressed casually in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, but somehow appeared very classy regardless.

"Ensign Littman." Mac stood up and shook her hand.

"Please, call me Tara."

Mac smiled and sat down. "Tara."

Tara placed a bottle of water on the table and sat down across from Mac. "So, it's a little unexpected to see you, what's this about?"

"I don't know if you heard," Mac said, straight to the point, "but James Richardson is dead." She drummed her fingers on her mug, watching Tara closely.

"Oh." Tara said simply. "Well, I guess I can have some closure then." She sighed and sipped her water looking at Mac straight on.

The way she said that last phrase, so carefree, lacking in emotional weight, as if she never _needed_ closure, irked Mac. Mac looked for a further reaction from her, a frown, a smile, a sob, but there was none. Just a blank stare at the coffee table. She continued with her strategy.

"You know," Mac said, "I spoke to James before he died, and he said the strangest thing; he said he was been set up."

Tara shook her head, "Unbeliveable. That man would do anything to try and get off the hook."

Mac smiled, rueful. "I don't doubt that." _Not one bit. _"But I did my research Tara, and there is something I do doubt," Mac tilted her head. "You."

"Excuse me?" Tara's voice was layered with offense, suspicion and fear.

Exactly what Mac wanted to hear. "Your case was my first major sexual assault case that went to trial. I was so convinced of Richardson's guilt that I failed to see the big picture. And I was too blind to really dig into your and Commander McCrae's story."

"You know, Colonel, I just remembered I have something important to do," Tara stood up quickly, "I'm really thankful that you came here in person to inform me of Richardson's death, but I'm going to be late." She smiled. "We'll be in touch."

"No." Mac's voice was firm. "You leave now, I will have you arrested for conspiracy, perjury, and drug trafficking. Stay and hear me out, and I might cut you a deal."

"Conspiracy? Drug Trafficking? Perjury?" Littman shook her head. "This is harassment. I'm calling the police." She picked up her cell and began to dial.

"Go ahead." Mac gave her best artificial smile. "Actually, you won't even need to call them, just give a wave from the window." Littman glanced out the window and saw the Sheriff's car parked near the cafe. The Sheriff, covered by a shadow from the sun, leaned against the car. He caught her gaze in the sunlight and tipped his hat in her direction.

"You want to accuse me?" Tara tried to put on a front, but there was a subtle layer of fear in her reaction as she slid back down in her seat "Let me hear what you have to say."

Mac sipped her coffee, "I did my research, of all the ships in the Pacific, yours was the one with the most per capita drug infractions. Your ship had the largest global reach. You were the officer in charge of the ships inventory. And I found some interesting discrepencies in your tax file that only make sense if you won the lottery or came into a significant amount of family money. Care to elaborate?"

Tara sighed. "I think I should get a lawyer."

"You're welcome to it, but I haven't even arrested you yet." Mac reached into her briefcase and pulled out a large stack of files. "This is the evidence I have against you. We can do this two ways: I can arrest you and bring about a very public and humiliating trial that you will lose, or we can talk," Mac shrugged, "Up to you."

The former Navy officer tried to appear surprised, failed miserably, and dropped the facade. Her shoulders drooped and she turned red with shame. "What's going to happen to me?" The truth was out, and there was no running from it.

"That depends on what you tell me." Mac put a tape recorder on the table and pressed the record button.

She bit her lip, looked out at the window at the Sheriff again, and looked around at all the patrons in the Cafe. Mac knew that Tara Littman was well known and respected in the community. In fact, she was counting on it.

"Alright." Littman cleared her throat. "I sort of stumbled into this drug thing and I took advantage... I made thirty-two thousand a year, risking my life everyday for what? So I can come home every six months and defend the government's decision to go to war? My mom was sick... and I couldn't afford to pay for her treatments..." She took a couple sips of her water and figdgeted with the cap. "It was easy, a couple of guys smuggled drugs in and out for me, and I kept them in ship's stores. I dealt them out to the crew or to other offshore buyers. The take was easy and the risk low. Everything was perfect until Richardson was ordered to my section. He was mean to the girls, he didn't care about anything or anyone- I had to get rid of him."

"So you set him up." Mac tapped the table with her fingers.

"Yes." Tara pouted, "It seemed like the easiest way."

"Did Commander McCrae know about your activities?"

"She didn't have a clue. I talked some girls into making formal complaints about Richardson, and then I told her that I heard him talking to some of his shipmates about 'showing me a lesson,' and I suggested that he be transferred. She told me that he wanted to be transferred, but his application was denied, and it would be two weeks before it could be appealed."

"You hacked into his file..." Mac picked up where Tara left off, recalling the evidence she and Harm had gathered. "You made a few alterations, and then you convinced McCrae that Richardson was dangerous." Commander Macrae willingly went with it, even going so far as to lie in court for Tara.

"...yes."

Now it was time for Mac to pull out the big guns. "Well, there is something you should know, after Richardson got out of jail, he wanted others to feel what he felt." She picked up the envelope and pulled out the contents. One by one, each photo and report was laid in front of Tara. Crime photos, autopsy reports, victim statements, witness statements, police notes, Mac averted her gaze from the photo the police had taken of the gash and bruise on her forehead that Richardson had inflicted. "Three people dead, three sexually assaulted, one shot, one on trial for murder, countless lives affected." Granted, Tara was not directly responsible, but her selfishness created a nasty turn of events that never should have happened.

"You have a choice," Mac continued. "You can come with me to the sheriff's office, where I will formally charge you with drug trafficking and conspiracy and face a very public trial that you _will_ lose, " she took a breath, relieved to still see the shame on Tara's face. "Or, you can work off your sentence on a new task force that the JAG corp is initiating. The Navy and the NYPD will be addressing the issues of harassment and sexual assault in the armed forces with the help of the Special Victims Unit from New York."

"What? What is that?" Tara asked.

"You will meet victims of rape and sexual assault and learn what they go through. I hope, Ensign, that you will learn some empathy." She emphasised that last word. As an afterthought she added, "also, any properties obtained through illegal funds will be reposessed."

"What? You can't do that!" Tara pleaded with her.

"This is a big decision Tara, take a few minutes, think about it." Mac got up with barely contained anger and walked outside, leaving the pictures and crime reports out there for Tara to look at.

The Sheriff nodded his head at her and she leaned against the car with him. "Nice acting." Mac said.

"You know, I think if I wasn't a pilot or a lawyer, Sheriff would be the next best thing" Harm said, squinting into the sun.

"The hat suits you."

He tipped it. "Thanks." He nodded at the window. "Think she'll take your good advice?"

"If she has any sense, she will," Mac crossed her arms. "Harm?" He had been with her the whole time, backing her play, supporting her.

He looked thoughtfully down at her.

Mac breathed deep, looked up at him through the bright sun, "Thanks."

xxx

Some time later

California

Olivia stepped onto the green grass of the cemetary. The cherry blossoms filled the valley with pink shades and a pleasing fruity aroma. A city girl by heart, she had never seen such beauty. Olivia walked through the graveyard, looking up and down the rows for the plot that her father was buried Olivia found the grave site, a gentle, round man with dark culy hair stood there. He wore the priest's white collar and black shirt. She wanted Mac to be here, but she was on an overseas assignment. Still, Mac did not leave her alone.

"Hello," The priest greeted her with a wide smile. "Y-you must be Olivia." He took her hand in his with such warmth and grace.

"Father Gerraro," she replied. "Mac told me about you."

"I'm glad you came."

The sun was rising over the hill of the valley. and the colors blazed around her in an amazing display. The morning mist rose off the grass and wrapped around her ankles. Olivia sighed and enveloped herself in the peace and serenity of the valley. So much she didn't understand about Joe, so much she struggled with. But somehow, here, it didn't matter. Olivia looked down at the simple grave. "So, how does this work?"

_Fin_


End file.
